Henry Benry

Henry turned two the month before we left for Europe. We have always wondered whether he will remember any of this experience. While the rest of us are immersing ourselves in the language, having cultural experiences, and learning new things, Henry is pretty much oblivious. He has been to Oktoberfest in Munich, skied in the Swiss Alps, and so much more! And yet, here is a conversation I had with him the other day:

Henry loves Legoland“Henry, where do we live?”

“America!”

“Well… where do we live right now?”

“Um, Minnesota?”

“No.”

“At home.”

“Yes, but where is our home?”

(Blank stare)

“Is it in Switzerland?”

“Oh yeah! Switzerland!”

Hmmmm. So, not only will Henry not remember his year in Switzerland, he doesn’t even really understand it as it is happening. However, he has had a big year in his own two-year-old sort of way. He went from a pretty limited vocabulary, to speaking in complete sentences, repeating and incorporating everything he has heard and making us all laugh. “Hey dad, you wanna hear something? It’s super cool and funny!”

This week, Henry finally got out of his pack-n-play that he has been sleeping in for the past 6 months. We figured it was time since he could no longer lay down in it without his head being wedged in the corner. Not that he was complaining. He usually slept all curled up like a snail with his butt up in the air. But, he immediately took to his “big boy bed,” and when we checked on him the first night, he was sprawled out on his back with his legs stretched out and his arms above his head. I was so happy for him!

The second morning in his new bed I went in to get him up, but his bed was empty. The covers were bunched up on the floor, so I lifted them up expecting to see him there. But he wasn’t. I listened, and I could hear breathing. So I bent down and looked under the bed, and there he was, sleeping peacefully. And this was at 8:30am. I don’t know what we did to deserve this, but he is an awesome sleeper!

This morning was Henry’s second time at Spielgruppe. It translates as “play group,” but it is a sort of short-term, in-house day care for 2 – 4 year olds. Henry gets to go to Ursula’s apartment for 2 hours every Friday morning. Last week didn’t go so well. Of course, all the other children speak Swiss German. The teacher speaks a few words of English for Henry. But, all of a sudden he was completely on his own in unfamiliar surroundings and couldn’t understand what people were saying. I imagine he felt a lot like the rest of us felt 6 months ago, and the way a two-year-old deals with that feeling is by crying for his mommy.

But, with a little help, he did really well this week. When I picked him up at the end of Spielgruppe, he said, “Mommy, I didn’t cry!” And who knows, at his age he might still be able to absorb some of the language from this exposure. He is a fast learner.

[singlepic id=705 w=320 h=240 float=right]In fact, since our earlier conversation, he now likes to ask, “Hey dad, where do we live?” That is our cue to say, “I don’t know, Henry. Where do we live?” He gets a big smile on his face and says, “Switzerland!”

There is just one more big project for Henry this year: potty training.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

 

Winter Wonderland

Our real Alpine vacation started after all the Christmas festivities were over. We had spent most of the weekend celebrating indoors, so when we awoke on Monday to a beautiful blue sky day, we had to take advantage of it. There are a lot of winter sports in this area, including downhill skiing, cross country skiing, snow shoeing, ice skating, and sledding. We decided to start slow, so we bundled everyone up, rented an additional sled and headed to the nearby gondola.

A the top of the mountain, we had to hike over to the top of the sled run, darting across ski slopes with downhill skiers rushing past. When we came to a section with a downward slope, we crammed 5 people onto 2 sleds and rode down to the chalet by the Öschinensee, a beautiful alpine lake nestled among the mountains at 5177 feet. It was at this point that we realized we still had a long ways to go to the bottom of the mountain, and that sledding in the Alps is not really a slower choice after all.

The next section of the sled run is incredibly steep and follows a ravine which is not blocked by any kind of fencing. We flew down, jamming our heels into the snow as hard as we could, which only slowed us down to 50 mph from 60 mph. Joe and Emily, who had a significant lead, tanked first. And just as they were brushing themselves off and getting back on the sled, I flew by with the boys screaming at the top of their lungs. Seconds later, we also wiped out, mostly becuase it was the only way I could find to stop the sled before crashing into a tree or going over the edge. Just ahead of us was a 120 degree turn onto a narrow bridge over a mountain stream. But, after a few more harrowing turns, the trail calmed down a bit, so that we could at least look up occasionally and enjoy the scenery as we were whizzing past it.

We decided it wouldn’t be prudent to bring Henry on that run again, but the other kids were willing to give it another go. So, we took turns doing it again, with a little more success on the second round.

That night, we slowed way down, and walked over to the lighted toboggan run (Schlittenbahn) in town, which is a fairly straight and well groomed run with lights strung above it. We went down it a couple of times, and then walked back to the hotel under the stars for a dinner of traditional Fondue and Raclette.

Tuesday morning started our skiing adventure. Joe took the older kids up the mountain for their first ski lesson while Henry and I stayed back and hiked and sledded in the valley. Emily and James struggled quite a bit to keep their skis from crossing, they fell down a lot, they worked hard getting across flat areas, and they came back sweaty and exhausted. When I asked them how it was they said, “Great!”

With their first lesson under their belts, we figured we could take them out the next morning on our own. So we got up early and took the whole family up to a quieter, easier mountain on the other side of town. It turns out, this was not a good idea. Although the scenery was beautiful and we snapped a couple of cute pictures, do not be decieved. It was an unmitigated disaster. I could write a whole post about the next three hours of skiing (if you can call it that), but I don’t really want to remember it. Let’s just say that skiing with young beginners is extremely hard work. There was a lot of yelling and whining, though no crying, which puts us ahead of most of the other beginner families we saw. But, technically, we can all say that we have skied in the Swiss Alps.