This post will be completely unrelated to Nepal or any of its features, but will deal with my oldest son and his papa. This could be happening anywhere in the world between a father and a son. It’s still a nice footnote when it happens to us in a place like Nepal.
Ever since Axl was born, I tried to teach him German. That was never high priority, although I wished very much that he could learn it. I would start with the standard baby words, Papa, Hallo, Gut! Auto, etc. He would repeat them every now and then, but at other times he would ignore me or swear up and down that it was a ’car’, not an ’auto’. Point taken. In other words, you little snot are as stubborn as your old man and will speak only one language. That’s perfectly okay. Besides, something tells me he will eventually learn more languages than I can even count. Were one of those only German. I always imagined it would be nice for Axl to see my people in Germany, and communicate with them the way I do. I always feel uncomfortable when my friends and family in Germany go (or even jump) out of their way to speak English around me, even if they mean so well toward my wife. Axl should be well armed the next time around.
How do I know this? Being as pre-occupied as I am at times, I hardly ever imagined he was storing all of this knowledge. Shame on me forever for underestimating children like that. A few months ago, I tried again. ‘Deutsch!’ I would say after he correctly pointed out the name of an object in English. He would then smile shyly and turn away, as if he wanted no part of Papa or his archaic and irrelevant language. He would listlessly look at the books I read to him before bedtime. A little hungry caterpillar seemed to have a better ring to it than ’Die kleine Raupe Nimmersatt’. His Gods, the Wiggles, never sang anything in German. What the hell? I also thought his didi might be teaching him Nepali during the day while I was at work. Shouldn’t surprise me. She thinks he’s a little Buddha anyway, might as well hear him talk like a little Buddha. Still no sign of any snippets he might have remembered from deutsch.
Then it came. One day after his bath, I had put on his jammies and brushed his teeth. I strolled over to his bookcase, picking out his staple for the night, Good Night Moon, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, My Truck is Stuck, etc. Axl saw what was being offered and then calmly made the walk to the bookshelf himself. He yanked down my arm, his order for him to be lifted up to where he could see the book. His little hands grabbed the German book. I thought he had made a mistake. But when I put him down his eyes started beaming as he said, “Deutsch!”
Yeah! I have a son here who wants to learn it. Until recently he could count in German and give me a few body parts, like Kopf or Nase. Though he still rarely talks in complete sentences (although we know fully well he can) he is storing vocabulary, a ton of it. He knows what an Anker and an Ameise (ant) is. He knows what a Katze and a Schmetterling is. He can also tell you what color they are. Rot. Blau. Gelb. And now he has mastered chess pieces. I won’t give this boy a Rhodes scholarship just yet, but he certainly deserves merit for his willingness to learn, his curiosity.
A good start, for sure. I will not try and cram this down his throat (I really haven’t), but I will patiently wait and see what he can digest and what he will throw out (or throw up). So far, it seems German tastes good to him. I know now that, with even minimal effort, that he will speak good German. Papa is pleased.
Ever since Axl was born, I tried to teach him German. That was never high priority, although I wished very much that he could learn it. I would start with the standard baby words, Papa, Hallo, Gut! Auto, etc. He would repeat them every now and then, but at other times he would ignore me or swear up and down that it was a ’car’, not an ’auto’. Point taken. In other words, you little snot are as stubborn as your old man and will speak only one language. That’s perfectly okay. Besides, something tells me he will eventually learn more languages than I can even count. Were one of those only German. I always imagined it would be nice for Axl to see my people in Germany, and communicate with them the way I do. I always feel uncomfortable when my friends and family in Germany go (or even jump) out of their way to speak English around me, even if they mean so well toward my wife. Axl should be well armed the next time around.
How do I know this? Being as pre-occupied as I am at times, I hardly ever imagined he was storing all of this knowledge. Shame on me forever for underestimating children like that. A few months ago, I tried again. ‘Deutsch!’ I would say after he correctly pointed out the name of an object in English. He would then smile shyly and turn away, as if he wanted no part of Papa or his archaic and irrelevant language. He would listlessly look at the books I read to him before bedtime. A little hungry caterpillar seemed to have a better ring to it than ’Die kleine Raupe Nimmersatt’. His Gods, the Wiggles, never sang anything in German. What the hell? I also thought his didi might be teaching him Nepali during the day while I was at work. Shouldn’t surprise me. She thinks he’s a little Buddha anyway, might as well hear him talk like a little Buddha. Still no sign of any snippets he might have remembered from deutsch.
Then it came. One day after his bath, I had put on his jammies and brushed his teeth. I strolled over to his bookcase, picking out his staple for the night, Good Night Moon, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, My Truck is Stuck, etc. Axl saw what was being offered and then calmly made the walk to the bookshelf himself. He yanked down my arm, his order for him to be lifted up to where he could see the book. His little hands grabbed the German book. I thought he had made a mistake. But when I put him down his eyes started beaming as he said, “Deutsch!”
Yeah! I have a son here who wants to learn it. Until recently he could count in German and give me a few body parts, like Kopf or Nase. Though he still rarely talks in complete sentences (although we know fully well he can) he is storing vocabulary, a ton of it. He knows what an Anker and an Ameise (ant) is. He knows what a Katze and a Schmetterling is. He can also tell you what color they are. Rot. Blau. Gelb. And now he has mastered chess pieces. I won’t give this boy a Rhodes scholarship just yet, but he certainly deserves merit for his willingness to learn, his curiosity.
A good start, for sure. I will not try and cram this down his throat (I really haven’t), but I will patiently wait and see what he can digest and what he will throw out (or throw up). So far, it seems German tastes good to him. I know now that, with even minimal effort, that he will speak good German. Papa is pleased.
