Word of the day: nackt

It's 21 degrees in this lovely suburb of Berlin. The sun is shining, the sky is almost impossibly blue, the gardens have sprouted a variety of flowers, children's play equipment, hammocks, and deck chairs, and a giant wasp scared the living crap out of me when I dared to write this entry on my balcony. The dry heat--quite a delightful change for somebody used to living with constant, oppressive humidity--is doing an amazing job of drying the sheets even though the lines are under a giant oak tree that prevents any sun from hitting the washing until 4pm. I could, of course, be daring enough to sneak out and use the sun drenched lines near my balcony rather than my front door, but I'm sure that's possibly even worse form than daring to let my washing encroach on to a second crossed square of washing lines (there are four, you see; one for each little unit). The neighbours upstairs had us over for coffee and home-made muffins last month and let us know that there had been some dramas with the opposite neighbours about which square belonged to whom. Apparently the incident was resolved when the Musician politely requested that the opposite neighbours unstring their own personal washing line when they are finished with it so that the other residents here know when they may use the communal space.

With beautiful weather of course comes different demands on my parenting capabilities. The people in the next building may well have overheard the following conversations today:

Maddyn: What's this hole, mama?
me: I don't know, but the bees like to go in there. Don't stick your finger in it! And put some pants on, please.

Maddyn: The mowing man is here! Can I go see?
me: You may watch from the balcony, but for goodness' sake put some pants on.

and

Jill: the wasp is outside! Mummy, shut the door!
Maddyn: I saw it! It was going to bite me!
me: Well, put your pants on already!

I came inside from putting my third load of washing into our shiny, new, and very tiny German front loader to find my son--naturally natural--on the balcony. I admonished him once again to put on some pants, with a timely reminder that the neighbours don't want to see that, thank-you-very-much. Alas in my haste to herd my little nudist inside I failed to notice my neighbour. I fear that my thoughtless phrasing may have disturbed him, for the next thing I noticed was the poor man fleeing the garden chair with the air of somebody looking as nonchalant as possible whilst wearing nothing but a pair of underpants.

Jill, ostensibly home from school sick but who of course is miraculously recovered except for the moments when I remind her that school is a five minute walk away and there's still x hours left of school (currently four--thank heavens for grundschules), is currently pretending to copy spelling words and bemoaning the fact that her awful mother won't let both children outside for a spot of naked rollerblading. There is truly no justice in this world.