Change Is In The Air

For the last few weeks, I do not think I've slept past 6 am once. The sun wakes me up each morning by flooding the room with sunlight well before the alarm clock considers jumping into action.

It's a glorious way to wake up - in every sense of the word. I do not have to rush out of bed to prepare for the day. I have plenty of time to lie and think about everything and nothing, before I turn to the task of dragging two groggy boys to the breakfast table.

The evenings are equally light. Yesterday, Mike and I went out for a walk at 8:30 pm, and when we returned from an hour-long stroll around our neighbourhood, the sun was still high and bright in the sky.

These long days are one of the biggest benefits of being this far north. Sure, we pay for it during the winter, but it's a trade-off I'm happy to make.

Though there's still frost on the ground each morning, the sun quickly heats up the day and the trees, shrubs and plants are bursting to explode into full spring foliage. It won't be long now, until the last remnants of snow in the sun-deprived areas behind the garage are gone forever.

Posters made by the kids to Benjamin

Transition is in the cards everywhere, as B boy said goodbye to his Norwegian school class yesterday.

After a party day at school, with yummy food, speeches and presents, he came home with letters and drawings from every child in his class, a photo album of his months at the school, not to mention lots and lots of good memories.

The level of success Benjamin's had this year is more gratifying to me than almost anything else we've done, as he was my biggest concern when we embarked on this adventure.

Unlike his big brother who charmed his way through childhood with an easy smile and friendly demeanor, Benjamin can be a bit socially awkward.

While he is the most generous and caring boy I know, when he gets into a group setting, or feels insecure, he starts acting silly and goofy, forgetting any and all manners he may have picked up along the way.

To the uninitiated, he probably seems wild, restless and out of control, when the fact of the matter is that he's shy and unsure about how to handle those feelings of insecurity.

I was worried that coming to a different school, learning another language and having to make new friends would be too much for him. Mike and I had an 'emergency' plan of withdrawing him from school if things didn't work out for him, and simply home-schooling him instead.

But children are so resilient, aren't they? Not only has Benjamin done an excellent job learning a new language, he's also made more friends here than he made in three years of school in Canada.

These last few weeks have been chock-full of playdates for my B boy, eager to squeeze in every last minute of social time with his little buddies. Plans have been made to meet up next time we're in Norway. Email and MSN addresses have been exchanged.

While B boy still suffers from awkwardness and over-excitability in new settings, he really has come such a long way in learning to manage those feelings. He's changed a lot these last 10 months, and I couldn't be prouder of my baby boy.

Benjamin's Last Day

I guess progress is being made, packing-wise. Benjamin's closet is pretty empty at this point, and this morning he only had a couple of jeans and three or four shirts to last him until we leave on Tuesday. The rest had been packed in suitcases ready to go.

So don't ask me why I picked up more clothes for him today on my shopping quest.

The shorts were just too darn cute to pass up. And of course he needed a matching shirt to go with them. And a hat. And belt.

Of course he did.

Or maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment, and I don't feel like I've really packed until I'm jumping up and down on the suitcases to get them to close.

Yeah, that must be it.

Tomorrow is B boy's last day in the Norwegian school. His teacher has cancelled all lessons tomorrow, and they are having a party day in his honour. Today they decorated the classroom with posters and balloons in preparation for tomorrow.

It's touching to see how much effort they're putting into making his last day a good one. We are bringing in pizzas, fruit and drinks, and my sister has baked her famous chocolate cake for the big party.

It'll be difficult to say goodbye to the class, as Benjamin's had such a good time there. We always knew he'd only be there for a little while, but still...

Moving sucks.

The chip off the old block doesn't fall far from the tree

I went to a parent-teacher conference today, for the B boy.

The news were surprisingly good.

He is where he should be in Norwegian, and not really behind the others. Pretty awesome, considering he didn't speak more than a couple of words of Norwegian 8 months ago, let alone read or wrote the language.

Thrilled to bits by the feedback, I offered to get the boy a reward for working so hard at school.

I figured he'd want a new game for the DS or the PlayStation, or perhaps a night out to the local playland, or maybe even go see a movie.

I was wrong.

As a reward, my boy wants chocolate.

I'm now thinking the B in "B boy" stands for Brilliant.

Morning Madness

Any weekday morning, in Norwayland. Everyone's finished their breakfast but the B boy.

"Benjamin, eat your breakfast."
"Okay."

[2 minutes later]

"C'mon, eat your food - and lean over the plate."
"Okay."

[Another minute later]

"Eat!"
"Okay!"

"I have to go to the bathroom."
"All right, go, but hurry up then."

[1 minute later, he's out of the bathroom. I've left the kitchen and he walks by me in the family room]

"Okay good, now go back and finish your breakfast."
"Mmmmm!"

[2 minutes later, I call from the family room]

"Benjamin, are you eating?"

[Silence, then with a mouth full of food]

"I am eating, mamma."
"Okay, good, finish up now. You've been sitting there for almost 20 minutes. You're not going to be able to watch any cartoons before school if you keep this up."

[Wail of unhappiness]

[2 minutes later]

"Benjamin, are you done now?"
"Almost."

[1 minute later]

"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Again? Go then, but please hurry up."

[5 minutes later]

"Benjamin, are you still in the bathroom?"
"Yeah..."
"Are you coming out anytime soon?"
"I guess so."
"Well, come out then."
"Okay."

[Exits the bathroom]

"Now go finish your breakfast - quickly!'

[Runs to the kitchen - comes back immediately]

"I am done with my breakfast."
"Eat the crust, too."

[Clearly stunned by my telepathic abilities, he stomps back into the kitchen]

"And finish your drink."
"Arrrrgh!"

[Comes back again with his mouth full of food, mumbling something about being done]

"Excellent. Now go get dressed. Pappa put clothes out on your bed for you."
"Dressed...arrgh!"

[Mumble, mumble in room...finally comes out partially dressed]

"Where are your socks?"

[Another wail of despair]

"Then you have to go brush your teeth."
"Hmmph."

[Marches off to the bathroom again, still sockless]

[I hear the Tooth Tunes toothbrush from the bathroom]

"And don't forget to MOVE your toothbrush when you brush. It won't do any good if you just push it against your front teeth to hear the song."

[More sounds of frustration as the toothbrush was clearly being pressed against said teeth, and then comes out of the bathroom to illustrate his stellar brushing skillz]

"Thanks for the demonstration B boy, but please don't walk out of the bathroom with the toothbrush. And LEAN OVER the sink so you're not dripping everywhere."

[Back to the bathroom he goes]

[Song stops playing, Benjamin throws the toothbrush down into the sink and rushes back out into the family room, finally done]

[He looks at the Tom & Jerry episode just starting on TV. The frustration of the last 40 minutes instantly forgotten as he cracks a huge smile of recognition and jumps onto the couch]

"This is a good one, Chris!"
"Mmm," says Christopher, who's been sitting calmly watching cartoons for the last 20 minutes.

Junior Cruising Class - Onslaught of the Cute

Monday afternoon, the boys waited and waited and waited to board the MS Color Magic. Not even at Christmas did 15 minutes feel that long. Finally, the doors opened and thanks to somewhat lower stature, Mathias and Benjamin easily pushed their way through the crowd, leaving the rest of their travel party behind.

They had a destination in mind, and their efforts were crowned with success when the boys were the first kids to make it into the ball pit. Thanks to their acrobatic climbing skills, ball-throwing prowess and intricate battle cries, they also managed to scare off any other kids who may have been wanting to join in on the fun:



But you gotta love the attention span of the under 10 crowd. Once the playland had been thoroughly explored and secured - ie. 5 minutes later - we were hit by a tidal wave of requests to go swimming. Though we were graciously granted circa 30 seconds to settle into our cabins, we were all present and accounted for at Aqualand before the ship had even left the Oslo harbour:



And yet again, the boys conquered everyone in their path with almost unbearable cuteness.

Or maybe that was just me?

No matter, others were worn down with sheer persistent cheekiness (including the lifeguard who eventually gave up whistling at their repeated jumping into the water from the edges and refusal to use the stairs).



Although eventually, even little tummies realized that no lunch had been had that day, slushie notwithstanding:



A final swim down the lazy river followed, whereafter we proceeded to gather up our things and head back to the cabin to get ready for a buffet dinner that legends are made of. From the seafood to the burgers and hotdogs to the ice cream and chocolate fountain, the boys' very own table was a little slice of heaven:



After dinner, a small window of opportunity presented itself to spend some of the parents' hard-earned money:

Option A - going to the Adventure Planet games room and using 10's of dollars on a machine that eventually yielded an absolutely useless toy with just enough battery power for two Japanese tunes before it conked out.

Option B - the classic approach involving a stop by the taxfree shop to pick up several oversized bags of candy.

But in the spirit of all things buffet, why choose?



Money thoroughly blown, the boys settled into their front row seats in the show lounge. Neither of them really wanted to be there, but they were overruled by their pesky older brothers.



[I hasten to add that once there, they were absolutely hooked, and couldn't wait to go back the next night].

Then a quick stop by the cabin to fix up their 'do's:



Before a final couple of hours roaming the ship on their sugar-fuelled highs. Thankfully, Benjamin's elevator phobia was short-lived, and he was able to take full advantage of the elevators.

A good thing, that.

Because, even though I admit to being completely biased, what could be cuter than a 7 and 8 year old having drinks (aka apple juice) in the 15th floor Observation Deck bar, ordered and paid for by themselves?



And that, my friends, was the end of Day 1 - The Junior Cruise.

Wordless Wednesday

The two faces - and two drinks - of Benjamin

Really, Really Old

B boy and I were walking behind the rest of the family on our recent visit to the beautiful city of York in England. We pretty much always make up the tail end of a group. Benjamin has little legs, so he walks slowly.

And he likes to talk.

I often wish he'd speak clearer, so I wouldn't have to stop and bend down to hear him, but mostly, I just enjoy his chattering. He'll make comments about people he sees, things that happened at school that day, and even events from years ago that he's suddenly remembered. Everything with infectious enthusiasm and usually with a slightly cheeky undercurrent.

We don't get anywhere quickly with B boy onboard, but the journey is almost always amusing.

And then there's times when his innocence just slays me. Like that day in York. As we crossed a busy street, I was pulling and tugging on him to hurry up. Those little legs were moving even slower than normal, and definitely not as quickly as the flow of traffic.

Because Benjamin had spotted the ruined remnants of an old stone building. Except to him it was simply a house with no roof, and he absolutely could not understand why there was a house with no roof in the middle of York.

"It's just an old, old house, B boy, I'm sure it's protected," I said.

"How old?" he asked.

"Hundreds and hundreds of years old," I answered absent-mindedly, still trying to get us across the road safely.

"I get it. As old as black-and-white TV, right?" said my genius boy.

I almost stopped in the middle of the street, but managed to get us across to the other side of the intersection before replying:

"No, even older than that. Many hundreds of years old."

"Oh, back from the dinosaur age, then," he declared with total insight.

Which is when I swore to myself never to tell B boy that our first black-and-white TV was bought after I was born. Never, ever!

'Tis The Season...

...to resolve the age old conflict between Darwinists and Creationists.

I present to you:

Benjamin's Theory Of Evolutionary Creation

B: "Do you know who created people, mamma?"
Me: "Do you?"
B: "The God of the Earth did."
Me: "Cool."
B: "Yes, he created a fish, and the fish went onto land and developed legs."
Me: "Oh, and then the fish became human?"
B: "Yeah."
Me: "You sure do know a lot!"

Benjamin is quiet for a little bit, and it's clear something's bothering him:

B (with disgust in his voice): "Except some people came from gorillas!"
Me (definitely not laughing): "But clearly not you."
B: "No, I came the fish way!"

**************

We took a mental health day yesterday, packed boys and gear into our little car and drove off to Kongsberg ski centre for a lovely day of downhill skiing. Our first time out this year. It was fantastic! Because we are the only bad-parents-who-let-our-kids-miss-school-to-ski in Norway, we essentially had the slopes to ourselves. Not once did we have to wait for a chair lift, and as we skied down, we rarely saw others on our way. Being bad parents is definitely the way to go, especially the week before Christmas, when it appears that all the children do at school is sing carols and talk about what they would like from Santa.

**************

In much less exciting news, I am absolutely inundated with work this week, which leads me to question why the need for Scandinavian translations always intensifies right before a holiday? Could it be because everyone knows that Heidi has not finished her Christmas shopping yet? And her house is a pigsty dearly in need of a good scrubbing down?

Because, really, deep down, I know the Universe is all about me, me, me, me.

And unfortunately, at the moment, not so much about you. I am sorry, my bloggy friends, that I haven't been able to visit you as much as I'd like to. I will definitely be making the rounds as soon as I can get these pesky assignments off my desk! And the shopping done. And the house cleaned. (And maybe just a teeny, tiny bit more skiing...)

Christmas Concert

Last night we went to Benjamin's Christmas Show with all the grade 2s in his Norwegian school.

The children enthusiastically sang several songs for us, all the while demonstrating highly sophisticated scarf movements. Not always in tune, but never without gusto.

Many of them also had roles in a play. Unfortunately, I am unable to relay to you the riveting story of the play, but it definitely had something to do with...eh...Christmas?



When it came to delivering their lines, the children seemed to have three options:

A. Shout them loudly, thus making me worry that the sound system might implode.

B. Whisper them softly, so I wondered if the system had in fact shut down.

C. Use a normal voice, reassuring me that the sound system was OK, but speakveryveryquickly, leaving me none the wiser as to the plot of the story.

The show was high on adorability, if less so on actual ability. A great time was had by all, and we went home with an extremely proud 7 year old. Who - if I may brag - was one of the most enthusiastic singers of all, in Norwegian.

Where Did These Boys Come From?

This morning was a little stressful. Mike flew back to Canada for a couple of weeks, and thus woke the boys up slightly earlier than usual to say goodbye. True to form, B boy hardly budged from his curled up position, hidden from view by a massive blanket.

Christopher cried.

Christopher has a very difficult time saying goodbye. He will agonize over an upcoming farewell for weeks (which is why we rarely tell him in advance), and he'll fall apart as the moment finally arrives. There'll be tears and long hugs. It's hard and I know Mike hates saying goodbye to him. Benjamin, meanwhile, takes everything in stride. He'll give you a hug, and then he's off playing. Seemingly without a care in the world.

But the funny thing is -- once you're gone, Christopher is fine. Almost immediately, he's back to chattering about this and that, totally focused on everything around him, apparently oblivious to the fact that anyone's missing. He may mention it at bedtime, but only occasionally. And when you're back, while he's happy to see you, there's no big reunion hugs of affection. It's almost like you never left.

Benjamin, meanwhile, suffers pangs of loneliness if someone's missing from his little world. He'll recreate the moment of farewell - the one you thought he wasn't paying any attention to - and he'll agonize over the fact that he didn't tell you he loves you, or that he didn't hug or kiss you. He'll count the days until your return, the hours, and even the minutes. And once back, he's on you like a moth to a flame. Making up for all those hugs and kisses.

It amazes me that my two boys came from the same gene pool, the same womb. They barely have anything in common. Except for their incessant chattiness, I can only think of one trait they share:

A total lack of organizational skills.

I couldn't tell you how many mitts or hats B boy has lost over the years. Certainly enough to clothe of all Luxembourg's preschoolers. And maybe Iceland's too. Last year, he lost two pairs of snow pants within the first winter week, and by the end of the season, that number was in the double digits. I was just amazed that he managed to keep his jacket all season long.

Christopher isn't too bad when it comes to outerwear, but he's a mess with respect to his school books. To illustrate, allow me to recount our adventures just today...

This morning, while I was attaching his lunch bag to his bag, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the school bag's side pocket:

Me: Christopher, is this something you need?
C (taking the paper): Oh no, this is a song I need to memorize for Santa Lucia. We're doing the rehearsals today.
Me: When did you get this?
C: Last Wednesday.
Me (deep breaths - remember, child just said goodbye to father): Christopher, do you need to know this for today, or can it wait until the 13th?
C: The rehearsals are today, and we have to know it by today.
Me: Well, practice now then. Practice, practice, practice. That's all you can do. You have 30 minutes.

After school, Christopher always calls on his fancy-smancy cell phone on his loooong (4 minute) walk home:
C: Hi Mamma!
Me: Hi 'Stopher! Did you have a good day?
C: Yep.
Me: Do you have everything you need to do your homework?
C: Yes, I brought Norwegian and English today.
Me: Okay good, I'll see you soon then.

2 minutes later:

C (opening the door): Hi Mamma!
Me: Hi sweetie - how did it go with the rehearsals?
C: Fine, she just said I have to know the song by tomorrow. I didn't lose my part.
Me: That's great. Did you bring the sheet home to practice?
C (getting his books and his lunch out of his bag): Yes. But I didn't have time to eat my lunch today, so I'm going to eat it now.
Me (looking through his books):...mmm...okay. Where's your weekly homework plan?
C: I put it in my bag - it's the folded sheet.
Me (taking a deep breath, sensing what's coming next): The folded sheet is the song you need to practice. I can't see the homework plan.
C (now looking frantically in his bag): Oh...no...I thought it was the folded sheet.
Me (calm, lecturing voice): Next time maybe you could *look* at the sheet before you leave?
C (getting his jacket and toque on to go back to school, while being a bit emotional): I always have to go back to school!
Me: Christopher, you really have to learn to take responsibility for your things. It's like forgetting to practice that song this morning -- only you know what you need to do, so you have to organize and plan for it.
C (in a huff, not feeling like a lecture): OKAY. 'bye.

10 minutes later:

C (opening the door): Here's the sheet.
Me: Excellent! But...where's your toque?
C: I wasn't wearing a toque, was I?
Me (breathing deeply...again): Yes, you were, Christopher. Did you leave it at school?
C (getting emotional...again): Oh no...!
Muffled sound as he slams the door. I watch him walking dejectedly back up the road.

4 minutes later, phone rings:

C (happy now): It was in my pocket! I got to the classroom, and I realized that I'd taken off my toque because I was hot and I put it in my jacket pocket.
Me: All righty, then. I'll see you at home.

A short while later, at the house:

C (opening the front door again): OK, I have everything now, right?
Me (coming to the hall from the kitchen): I don't know, I assume you have all your books?
C: Yes, I do.
Me (waving the supposed homework plan he walked back to pick up from school): So this is the new format for the homework plan?
C (looking at the paper, groans): Oh no! I took the wrong sheet. This is the work plan for what I'm supposed to do at school. Not the homework plan.
Me: Bye, bye...

And as I watch him walk back to school for the third time that afternoon, I realize it is going to be a very long two weeks of solo parenting.

Bloggy friends -- make me feel better by telling me I'm not the only parent with this problem?

One Night In Dubai

We had invited my parents over for dinner last night, and Mike and I were in the kitchen prepping an easy Tex-Mex dinner while the boys were watching TV. Suddenly, Christopher came running into the kitchen, and he was extremely excited:

C: "Did you know that the most expensive hotel in the world is in Saudi Arabia?"
Me: "Oh, really? I thought it was in Dubai."
C: "Yes, that's right."
Me: (??!) "It's the one that looks like a sail, right?"
C: "Yep. It's a seven star hotel!"
Me: "Wow."
C: "And when you go, they give you your own butler!"
Me: "That's great, Christopher."
C: "Yes, and if you go out shopping and you have too many shopping bags, your butler will take them to the hotel for you. Then he'll come back and get you when you're done with the rest of your shopping!"
Me: "Excellent."
C: "It costs 3,000 dollars a night."

Mike (loudly, because he's now setting the table in the dining room): "That's a lot of money. For that amount of money, you could buy a PlayStation, an XBOX 360, a Wii and 20 games."

Benjamin (yelling from the living room, having heard only the last part of the conversation): "I want a Wii and 20 games."

Christopher walks back into the living room to Benjamin.

B (still yelling): "I want a Wii and 20 games!"
C (clearly exasperated with everyone for missing the point): "But Benjamin! You could have a servant."

Just In Case You Were Wondering

If you see a snail on the other side of a puddle, do not jump into the puddle. I know you're dying to, but you really shouldn't.

"Why?" you ask.

Benjamin will tell you that the snail has worms in it that come out as it moves through a puddle, and if you subsequently jump into said puddle, the worms may work their way through your shoe sole and bore into your foot. They will then crawl all the way up to you heart or brain. AND...if the worms stay there for long enough, you might die!

His source for this was National Geographic.

I'm thinking he may have missed a few things, but why take chances. Starting right now, I will never again jump into a puddle following a snail!

Still not sure about puddles that appear snail-free.

*****

In other news, we had a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner last night.

Improvisation was the name of the game, since, this being Norway, there's no pre-cooked turkey, fresh turkey or even frozen turkey to be found. Anywhere! There is also no Stove-Top anything, cranberry sauce or Reynold's plastic oven bags.

So here's what we ended up with:

Three chickens
Saucisses (mini sausages - huge hit with the boys)
Bacon
Roasted potato wedges (would have loved mash, but was voted down)
Homemade celery, onion and sage stuffing (which I have to admit was fantabulous)
Cranberry jelly
Brussels sprouts, carrots and green beans
Gravy

...not your traditional Thanksgiving dinner - but everyone loved it! Or if they didn't, they pretended really hard, because most of the food was gone.

And to finish it off - pumpkin pie being unavailable - we opted for crepes with chocolate mousse. Mmmm...delicious!

Thanks for all your well wishes. They were greatly appreciated.

Once Upon A Time There Was a Field Trip

or

I Love Norwegian School - Part Four Hundred And Seventy Three

Today, in between stressing about the Thanksgiving Feast I am preparing for La Famiglia tomorrow, I managed to get out in the glorious fall weather for a field trip with B boy and his grade 2 class. Fortysome 6 and 7 year-olds, two teachers, and two volunteers walked for about 40 minutes from the school and into the woods to an idyllic three sided timber "koie" (cabin) in a clearing in the forest. Surrounding it were logs and stumps strategically placed for seating, and inside the cabin was a massive fire pit with a flap system in the roof to allow the smoke to escape upwards, and more tree stumps for seating.

The kids spent the next two hours climbing around in trees and on the logs around the cabin. Robes had been tied from tree to tree for extra balancing or swinging amusement.

Although there was a chill in the air, the sun was shining and the crackling fire we lit in the fire pit provided plenty of heat. While most of the boys fought imaginary battles on an epic scale with sticks and branches, the girls had fun gathering leaves into giant piles they could jump into.

After a while, the kids were split into a boy group and a girl group. The girls were ushered into the cabin, where one of the teachers proceeded to read the fairy tale 'Goldilocks' to them. The boys, meanwhile, sat outside on tree stumps placed in a circle, listening to their teacher reading 'The Three Little Pigs'.

They were then divided into even smaller groups and told to reenact the story they'd just heard. This caused a great deal of amusement and boisterous applause from their peers, especially among the boys who were eventually told to lower their voices, as they were drowning out all other sounds from far and wide.

Lunch time finally arrived, and the kids whipped out sausages, cheese sandwiches, and even noodles (!) to cook over the open fire. Many of them had brought nifty little telescopic BBQ tools that could be extended and used to spear their food for grilling. They also had styrofoam seating pads to protect themselves from the cool ground and thermoses with hot chocolate to keep warm.

After lunch, we collected garbage in a couple of plastic bags and put out the fire in the koie, before we headed back to civilization again. As we arrived at school, the kids had an hour left of the day, which was just enough time to write about their experiences in the forest.

It was definitely Benjamin's kind of school day! And who can blame him?

I think it's great that the school is willing to sacrifice learning time in class for experiences like this. You can't help but smile when you watch the kids running around with rosy cheeks and bubbling enthusiasm for anything the forest has to offer.

Life is going to get serious enough for these second graders soon enough, so I am all for letting them be kids for as long as possible. And I'll try not to worry if B boy hasn't mastered long division before the ripe old age of 8.

It was also one of those moments when you realize that the boys do perfectly well without their PlayStation, Wii, DS, TV and MP3 player. They don't even need a fancy destination for their field trip. A couple of sticks and a friend or two, and they can make things happen all on their own!

God and the Devil

I don't mean to be turning this into "The Benjamin Show"...but this was too good not to blog about:

Friday mornings always seem a little more pleasant - Mike and I have the 'ah, the last rushed morning before the weekend' feeling, and even the kids are more animated and chatty while eating breakfast. On that note, Benjamin stole the show this morning.

You have to know that our household is non-religious. Mike is a self-proclaimed atheist, and I'm...well...I'm still thinking about it, but tending towards the agnostic side of things. However, we tread gently when it comes to our children. We do not want to push our views onto them, but rather let them have a chance to make up their own minds in due time.

Benjamin, having just turned 7, has been deemed too young to really talk to about this as of yet. So we've kept it at the level of 'some people believe...' and 'other people believe...', and tried to instill in him respect for different beliefs and the idea that this is a really private and personal matter.

Clearly, we need to do better, because unbeknownst to us, Benjamin has already acquired a lot of information on this subject. I almost coughed out my toast when this headliner came out of my lastborn's mouth as he finished his yogurt:

"God was lucky to die first!"

Mike and I looked at each other in stunned silence. 'What?!'

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

Well, that just opened the floodgates - God was lucky to die first because he got to go to Heaven and become God. Everyone else died after him and could not become God, because that job was taken.

Although Jesus was a nice boy who helped God and all the others. Benjamin's enunciation can be a little off sometimes, so 'Jesus' came out as 'cheeses'. Mike didn't get it first, and asked "God was helped by cheeses?". Only a man.

Benjamin also informed us that the Devil is made of fire and stone, and has a spear. He is not very nice, because he uses a weapon.

And when it comes to Heaven, well, it is divided into two. The first half is God's side, which is about 72000 miles. The other half is the Devil's half, and it is only 2000 miles. God's side is larger because Jesus helped him.

I have to admit, for a fleeting second after he said this I was tempted to turn this into a math problem (they are doing fractions at school). You know, 'is it really two halves, if one side of Heaven is bigger than the other?' But I wanted to hear the rest of it - and besides, that would just be such a lame 'mother' thing to do; turn everything into a lesson.

God's side - which is also called Heaven (yes, I see the inconsistency, but this is what you get when your poor son is left to his own devices) - is cloudy with water, and it looks like you are on the clouds, except you don't fall off. The Devil's side is called (lower your voice to a whisper) - Hell - but we are not allowed to say that, because it is a bad word. So we only say the Devil's side. It has red clouds and has fire, and you sleep on spikes.

As I said, we were stunned.

But wait...there's more... Benjamin wants to be the God of Thunder. Apparently that position has not been filled. Because the Norwegian God of Thunder - called Thor - died when he killed a snake, and it killed him back just before it died (this was a bit confusing, but he was adamant they both killed each other). Then a French God took over the thundering! Mike - and his British ancestry - was quick to seize this opportunity, "So we can blame the French for the thunder and lightning?", but Benjamin explained that the French God had died, too.

And there you have it. Any questions?

What are you thinking now?

My Benjamin boy, you are such a funny little guy.

Remember when you were goofing off with Joakim on the side of the soccer field your brother was playing a match on? I noticed your pants kept falling down, and you were holding onto the waist with one hand, hampering you in your valiant attempts to tackle Joakim. I wondered why your pants had suddenly gotten so much bigger on you. I even thought that it would not be good if you lost weight, small as you are! When I went over for a closer look, I saw that your pants were not buttoned. You obviously had not been able to do so, and didn't want to ask for help. Since you dress yourself in the morning, your pants were probably on the verge of falling down all day. In school, in the after school program, on the trampoline...

And what about that day when we came home late from dinner at mormor and bestefar's house on a school night, and you and Christopher were given strict instructions to change, brush your teeth and hit the sack. Right away. I quickly checked my emails, and as I went back to check on the two of you, I saw Christopher was done and in bed. Good job. I went into your room. You were lying on your bed - that's a start - but wearing a new, clean shirt and reading a book. You looked up with that big smile of yours when I came in. Your dirty clothes were strewn all over the floor, a pile of clean clothes that had been placed on the bed was now also on the floor. Your PJs were the only clothes still on your bed, untouched. I asked you what you were doing, and you said you were in bed. I asked you what you were wearing, and you said your PJs. I asked you to double-check, and when you did you looked up in complete surprise "Oh..."

Then there was the time when I came by school to pick you up. You were supposed to be outside playing, but I finally found you in your classroom, alone, where you were looking through a shelf full of drinking glasses to find yours. Except I knew right away that you didn't have a glass there, because you'd never told me you needed to bring one. When I mentioned this, and tried to find out exactly what you thought you were looking for, you became very vague. I guess you were thirsty and just hoped a glass would magically reveal itself to be yours. The very next day you had a very cool looking Bionicles drinking glass with you in your bag. With big letters on it - "BENJAMIN".

I often don't understand how your mind works. In some ways, you seem to be living in your own "Benjamin world". You never tell me anything about your day, and when prompted you do not seem to remember a lot of what you do at school. You could have been on a field trip, but have little recollection of what you saw. You do not recall the names of many of your friends, even though I see you playing with them daily at school. I suppose these details just aren't interesting to you.

On the other hand, you will surprise me with your insight into things that I consider far beyond your 7 years. Things that you really should not even be aware of. Your loyalty to your family and your friends touches me on a daily basis. You show a level of empathy and generosity that is extraordinary, and I'm sure you'd give away your most prized possessions if someone you cared about asked.

And you are a brave boy! You have taken on this task of going to a Norwegian school with gusto, and not once have you cried, protested or in any other way indicated that you found it difficult. Even though I know it must be hard to sit in a classroom with kids you do not know and - at least in the beginning - could not even communicate with. I imagine you having to pretend to listen to your teacher, when you have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. And you still come home every day and tell me that school was great, and that you give it a 9 out of 10.

You are a puzzle to me, my cutie-boy. But a sweet and incredibly happy little puzzle.

The long way up...

Friday afternoon we decided to take advantage of the boys' early finish from school, and head up towards the cottage for the weekend. B boy was home a little before noon, and even though Christopher had a field trip, he was still back at the house at 12:15 pm.

Have I mentioned how much I love school in Norway? I am still not sure if they are actually learning anything, but the schedule sure does suit my social calendar...

By 1 pm, we had packed the car with food (chocolate) and a few items of clothing, including mitts and hats as it can be cold this time of year, and off we went. As we started our drive, we were pretty pleased with ourselves, talking about how efficiently we'd packed, how quickly we'd managed to pull everything together, and how much time we'd still have left of the day when we arrived at the cottage. By our estimation, we'd be there no later than 4:30 pm, with plenty of time to go exploring before sunset.

Looking back now, I can't believe I didn't see it. Things had gone too smoothly. Something was bound to happen. Pride comes before a fall.

The trip is normally 3.5 hours long, provided you don't get stuck in rush hour traffic. This being Norway, the trip consists entirely of single lane roads, so a truck or a tractor ahead of you can easily add unexpected of time to your journey.

However, it wasn't traffic that was our downfall last Friday. Nah, we managed to mess up all on our own. We had been driving for a good one and a half hours - almost two. In fact, we had just made it past the halfway mark of our journey, when I turned to Mike and said "The key! Did you bring the key to the cottage?" Sadly, Mike had not done so, and did not feel like that was his responsibility, either. Of course, I immediately protested the notion that remembering the key should be my job alone. Funny that we'd both feel that way so strongly...hmm...Mike opined that he had thought of almost everything else and couldn't be expected to remember everything, which, coincidentally, was how I felt, too. Imagine that?!

We finally agreed that "discussing" this further would not solve the problem as we still had no key, and in desperation, I called my dad to check if they by any chance had a key hidden somewhere around the cottage for just such situations. No luck, of course, because my parents - responsible people that they are - would never forget to bring a key to the cottage.

Rats! What to do now? If we turned back to get the key, we'd add at least 3 hours to the journey. Plus we'd hit rush hour traffic. Maybe it would be better to just go back home instead? While we debated our options, my incredibly kind father offered to drive and meet us half way to hand over a key to the cottage. Shameless that we are, we took him up on it, and met him some 50 minutes later. I am not particularly proud to think that thanks to us, my father got an extra two hour drive on Friday.

Key in hand, we turned our car around and headed up towards the cottage again. Feeling optimistic about it all, we were probably speaking a tad louder than earlier - when the mood had been rather tense - and unintentionally woke up Benjamin, who'd thankfully been snoozing for the last hour or so. Benjamin, who does not like to drive any length of time due to his motion sickness, promptly proceeded to throw up all over Mike and Christopher's fleeces. Simultaneously, he also effectively removed the "new car smell" that Christopher so detested in our rented Golf.

B boy is usually very good about warning us when he is feeling ill, but this time he was caught by surprise, undoubtedly because he was so rudely awakened from his snooze. Apart from the need to keep my voice down, I learned another important lesson that afternoon: Never let a child prone to motion sickness eat chocolate ice cream before a long car ride. I'll spare you the details.

Scrambling, we got B boy and the car cleaned up as much as we possibly could at the side of the road, and continued on our way. But despite our frequent stops to let Benjamin get some fresh air, the poor kid was as white as a ghost and managed to get sick another few times before we finally made it up the mountain. Fortunately, he was now awake and fully equipped with the requisite bags.

According to the clock, the trip took about 5 hours, but to us, it felt much, much longer. When we finally arrived at the cottage, any urge to go exploring had been zapped. We had a rather uninspired pizza dinner and then we collapsed in front of the TV, watching an episode of the fabulous "Planet Earth" series:



....ah....love that nook...

By evening's end, we had recovered enough to be looking forward to spending the rest of the weekend in the mountains!

Nominee for Hero of the Day: My Dad
Nominee for Trooper of the Day: Benjamin

You gotta love'em...

Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it. ~Not Your Average Dictionary


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Conversation between Benjamin and Christopher as we walked past a bunch of parked bicycles, while looking for a washroom in which to wash dirt out of Benjamin's eye:

C: "Benjamin, when are you going to learn how to ride a bicycle?"
B: "Never!"
C: "What if when you are married, your wife asks you to go for a bike ride?"
B: "I'll say I don't want to."
C: "Every time?"
B: "Yep!"
C: "What if she asks you to do the Tour de France with her?"
B: "Then I'll just take the car."


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We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today. ~Stacia Tauscher

Benjamin's take on modern design

This way? No....




That way? Oh...




THIS is how you sit on the ultra cool chairs in the public library in Drammen!