Tuesday, April 28, 2015
The Vikings are coming!
A couple of years ago small was getting the hang of talking, generally mixing his sentences with half English and half German and a bit of nonsense (I can't even do that now!) It took a considerable amount of patience from him and us to understand what he was on about, or indeed what he wanted, for most of the time..
As with all kids, the boys learned their language skills from listening to Mum and Dad, in our house I always speak English and Mrs S. always Swiss German.
As a direct result of having me as one of their parents the boys have unfortunately picked up one or two...how shall we say...fruity words, which sometimes spice up the conversations at inopportune moments. Therefore I have had to take it upon myself to correct and administer warnings where appropriate in using "Grown-up words".....
Anyhow, around this time a favourite TV show for both the boys was Mike the Knight, a cartoon where a young fearless knight rides across the kingdom with his pals, vanquishing all manner of beasts and sometimes Vikings. Big and small took to dressing up as knights and would practice vanquishing teddy bears, cushions, ladybirds and unfortunate visitors to our house with the help of some foam swords and a dressing up set, sent over from Nana in England.
This particular afternoon the boys were vanquishing the cushions on the sofa and I was writing some music in my office keeping an eye and ear on proceedings. After a rather violent battle in which on of the cusions got utterly destroyed, small was stomping around the lounge in his little knights helmet and plastic chain mail, waving his sword and shouting at the top of his voice "Got you, You fuckin', you fuckin, Got you"
On hearing this, I leapt out of the office and dealt a swift bollocking to small, who retired to his room to have a cry...
Satisfied that I had dealt with the latest outburst of "language" I sat back down in the office as a very folorn Big entered, dragging his foam sword along the floor, with his helmet tucked under his arm, he looked at me and said "Pa, why did you shout at small for getting the vikings?"
Vikings? I said..
Yes, we pretended the cusions were vikings and we got them...
"Got you, you viking, you viking, got you"
Could I feel any worse?