Citizens of the World

My children have always been a bit confused geographically speaking. They are confused in other ways as well, but that is another topic for another day. Today it's all about geography.

I have always wanted geography to be an organic part of the kids' life. To that end maps of the world and of the United States were placed at eye level for them to explore and find locations that we would talk about. Now this is all well and good, and even, dare I say it, brilliant. We started out identifying Italy because it is shaped like a boot, and kids find that fact to be wonderful. But somehow along the way the kids have forgotten where they are from or have started not to care. Instead, they have just started picking out places where they claim to be citizens.

For Boo it started out to be, not surprisingly, Italy. He would claim that he and his father were it fact from Italy. And he could point to it on the map. Now, his father is German. Boo knows this. He knows that Daddy, Oma and Opa speak German. But he was, for a time, convinced that they were Italian. Maybe it came about because of their mutual love of all things spaghetti. Now he wants to live in Chicago because he is "a city kid, not a country kid" and, of course, Chicago has every kind of train imaginable. He is also in love with California because Lightening McQueen goes there to race. Greece is high on his list, but I think this is because he believes it to be overrun with colorful Mini Coopers, thanks to a history dvd in which the host zooms all over the place in the jaunty Coopers.

They also are a little shaky on the time and space thing. When we go on a trip to visit Grandnanny in Louisiana, they always want to know where we are. If you tell them Alabama, they will shout out "No, this is Atlanta, GA." They get themselves so confused, and it provides them with hours of material to argue about. Not that they need any help in that department.

This geographical oddity has spilled over into their language. Snoo is convinced that she can speak German. They are learning the language and will, no doubt, in the near future be able to carry on conversations that I cannot understand. But, as of now, the skill is limited. That does not stop the Snoo. She told her father one day that she knew how to say "volcano" in German. It sounded something like "Vaaaalcaaaanoooooo". They love the books "Frog and Toad" and were delighted to learn that "frog" in German was "Frosch". Then they wanted to know how to say "toad". I told them that I didn't know so Snoo decided to educate us all. "Mommy, it's 'Frosch and Toasch'." (It is actually "Kroete" but once she has set her mind upon something, she cannot be dissuaded.) Now they can't be faulted for this language complication. It's hereditary. As a child I believed that if I added an extra "a" or "o" sound to the end of every word, it amounted to being bilingual on my part. Ia hava skillza. Voila! That's French.

To further complicate matters, my children can speak with perfect British accents and vocabulary should the situation call for it, which they frequently think it does. I blame this all on Winnie the Pooh, Kipper, Frances and Dame Edna Everage. They have expansive memories so books and programs full of British dialogue has been committed to memory. Flashlights are torches. Vacations are holidays. Lollipops are lollies. Many the sideways glance we have received while they hold forth in character.

I hope to travel abroad with these characters some day, to explore new places together. We will see if the world at large knows how to deal with these AmeriGermItaltish children.