Fitting in

Not enough time to write -- we are getting ready to leave, which means the to-do list is mission critical. Throw in some travel and computer problems, and that's pretty much all the time I have. But here's a few thoughts on fitting in, after almost a year in Spain.

1) So at some point this spring, boys of Nathan’s age started carrying around futbol (soccer) cards from the Spanish, and more recently, European Cup leagues. It turns out that when these cards are stacked to 2-3 inches high, they act like magnets. Nathan will be walking along from school, pass a boy with such a stack, and the next thing you know the two are nose to nose, stack to stack, flipping through their decks like experienced Wall Street bond traders trying to close a deal.

The problem is that Nathan is an innocent. There have been many weekends when he opens a pack of cards at the store, screams with joy (“I got a SuperCrack for Ronaldo!”) and proceeds to crow about it all day. Then Monday comes, and he comes home from school sans Ronaldo—and all of his other good cards. This has been repeated for weeks on end.

There’s other disadvantages to the trading scene at school. There have been rogue traders, boys who take a great card and promise  to get “the card I left at home," and then don’t deliver. Then there’s the Federal-Reserve-type kids, who are willing to let their friends see their stash but don’t trade.

Mommie’s opinion about this situation has been that such experiences will give Nathan a deep and authentic understanding of the free market. Through such deep and authentic understanding, he will learn better how to operate in the real-world context. Daddy’s opinion has been that Nathan is losing all his good cards. Finally, while Mommie was gone on a business trip, Daddy broke down and provided direct instruction on how to keep the cards that are important, and trade up the chaff. We’ll see whether the direct approach means the Balon de Oro he got last night is intact later today.

2) Spanish word of the day: Ladron (thief)

So some of you may remember that Seth has a fondness for the caps on magic markers. He has spent a lot of this year spiriting them out of his classroom in his coat pockets, often adding comments like “Reina (his teacher) got two of them, but she didn’t get this one.” Now, perhaps because his teachers are searching the pockets more thoroughly, here’s what transpired today.

Seth walks out of the school, all sunny and happy to see Daddy as usual. When he gets past the perimeter of the teacher surveillance area, he reaches into his SOCKS and pulls out two marker caps. And some playdough. 

Unfortunately, Seth has no special love for the marker caps (or playdough) when he gets home – which means he’s not motivated by love of the object itself. Instead, it seems to be the thrill of the steal that drives his behavior. In 15 years, he’ll be the guy taking the SAT for every rich kid in town.  

3) So after almost a year here, we think we have finally figured out how to relax, Spanish-style. This was all sparked by a weekend daytrip down to our friends in Aranjuez*** which, to these Americans at least, was pretty much the height of social perfection. We met our friends and some of their friends, then played in a park*, saw a kids’ puppet show about starving kids in Africa**, played some more, went for a long lunch while the kids played soccer, went for coffee in a park while the kids played soccer and Uno, and then went to a street fair to collect dinner and see the fire-stoking iron man (let’s just say on this topic that there was iron in several senses of the word). Total elapsed time: 10 hours.

So this, in the 40-something American experience, is totally unheard of. We’re lucky to schedule an hour coffee date with a friend, much less spend a couple hours at their house for dinner. In fact, 40-something Americans may be somewhat freaked out by the idea of spending that much time in one social location. But here it’s actually pretty common (as far as we can tell), and there’s a lot to recommend it: when your kids are bugging you, it’s not like you need to choose between tending to your kids and talking to your friends, because you can do both. The combination of several families means there’s big kids and little kids, and they all play together, mostly nicely, leaving adults to conversation. Conversation is interesting because, well, you’re in España and people have interesting things to say. And best of all, this feeling of “I’m really doing nothing except enjoying the day” comes over you, which is pretty unheard of in 40-something America. And highly recommended.

Jon and I have discussed whether we could potentially import this custom back to Boston -- and I think the answer is no. Even if we were willing, there'd be a shortage, no doubt, of friends willing/able to wander around Arlington/Cambridge with us on account of everyone's crazy weekend schedule. Another reason to come back.

* The only downside to the day was that our friends’ daughter fell off the swings at said park and broke her collarbone – in two places. She wept a bit at the park, went to the ER, and came back pretty much her normal self – happy, smiling, and asking whether the 3-week ban on sports included playing goalie (her Mom: Yes, that includes goalie.). She didn’t complain once, which is either a tremendous personal accomplishment for elementary schooler, or a cultural difference, or both. If our kids (well, some of our kids, anyway) broke a bone, we’d be hearing about it for years afterwards.

** Mommie napped during the puppet show. Even better. 

*** Aranjuez is a kind of Spanish Ann Arbor -- college town, adorable and vibrant downtown, restaurants, good public transportation. Oh, and a royal summer palace.  With peacocks, whose name translates from Spanish as "Royal Turkeys."