Merry Christmas!

Fröhe Weinacth, Buona Natale, Joyeux Noël and Feliz Navidad!

I have now met up with Anja and am staying with her family in Wittenberg. Everything is well. Her brothers, Oliver (8) and Felix (2) are delightful. It's been years since I've been around the larval specimens of pink apes, so it's a lot of fun. It's also a completely different experience, because little kids don't necessarily (okay, don't at all) operate on the same sleep schedule as adults. I got a brief glimpse of what I put my parents through when I was an infant when Felix started crying for his father sometime around 3AM last night. I swear I had just put my head to the pillow when he started, and I was praying that Norbert, his father, would come and see to it that he was alright. You see, for children, it would be a grave social faux pas if I were to react to them in the same way as I do my college-age compatriots if they wake me up from a sound sleep. Luckily, Norbert came up and rocked Felix back to sleep in short order. However, Oliver, being at that ambitious age when rising with the sun is normal (oh what nostalgia!) has taken it upon himself that around 8:30AM or so, I have slept long enough and that it is time to play. This he does in a manner-of-fact tone that only a child can do. In German. I imagine the conversations we have going like this.

Oliver (auf Deutsche): Peter.
Me: *No reaction*
Oliver: Peter.
Me: *I am awake now, but am not letting on*
Oliver: Peter, it's 8:30 in the morning. The sun has been up for two minutes!
Me: *I open my eyes. The game is lost*
Oliver: Ah, your eyes are open! How wonderful! That means it is time to play!
Me: *At this point, two conversations begin - one in my brain in English, and one out loud in German*
To myself: "Dear god, gods or whatever there is controlling the cosmos, please forgive all my many years of sinning. I take back every bad thing I've ever said, ever done, ever thought against my siblings, my parents, my pets, my friends, my teachers, the President, both political parties, Mother Nature, You, and everything else in the Universe. I will devote myself only to tending medicinal plants in a mountain-top garden for the rest of my life, in quiet and in peaceful repose, never again so much as brushing a mosquito from my body. I shall make even the Jains look like violent sociopaths, if you will only remove this sweet, irreproachable child which you have sent to damn me as I lay here unable to defend myself until at least 9. Please, oh higher powers that be, please!"
To Oliver: Ja. Okay.
Oliver: Peter, it's 8:31! A whole minute has gone by where we could be playing? Don't you realize we only have another sixteen hours to play? There is so much to do!
To myself: "Okay Peter, prayer didn't work. Okay... But can't get angry! That will ruin his life. What will he think if this crazy, slothful American suddenly jumps out of bed and starts yelling at him in some foreign language? He'll be scarred for life. Every time he hears English, watches anglophone movies or listens to anglophone music, thinks about the United States, irrepressible feelings of hatred will well up inside him. He'll go crazier than bin Laden, than Kaczynski, than Hitler! You will have created a force of evil out of a pure innocence. It'd be worse than Marius releasing Baal, worse than Qui-Gon taking Anakin as his padawan, worse than voting for Pat Buchanan. Oh what a thin line I tread! What precariousness I face!"
To Oliver: Ja, ich komme. Eine minuten.
Oliver: *Unwavering* Ah, Peter, you must not know what time it is! How simple a mistake! It's okay, it's still 8:31. And now it is 8:32! Hurray! Hurray! A minute has passed and now we can go and play! Come! Come now! You can't sleep when you're playing, just as you can't play when you're sleeping!
To myself: "Face it Peter, you are up against an implacable foe. There is no possibility for detente, for negotiation, only surrender. Unconditional capitulation. He will never cease in his efforts to harry and challenge you. He will win the battle and the war and you will have no choice but to meet his demands and submit! You, who've faced all-nighters, anxious dogs, loud parties downstairs, fire-alarms, even sleeping outdoors in the cold, have been defeated by a small child. Do not be so ashamed though. Like Master Yoda said, "Size matters not." He has been training every day of his life. His devotion to his art is unparalleled. He makes martial art masters, learned scholars, and virtuoso performers seem like errant amateurs. You had no hope. You had no defense. It is best to end your suffering quickly and with whatever is left of your honor and sanity!"
To Oliver: Okay, okay. Jetzt ich komme.
Oliver: Wonderful! Ah, I see that you have propped yourself up on one arm in an effort to stall for time! That is mildly clever of you! It has been tried on me many times though, not to fear. I applaud your efforts, futile though they may be. Now it is play time! Come and play! Yes, up on the other elbow! Good! Good! Soon we will play! And now you've gotten into a crouching position! I know you're thinking when I turn my back you'll go lay down again, but luckily I will instead come and crawl next to you and lock eyes so that you have no choice but to get up fully.
To myself: "I knew I should have gotten me a Duplicator like in Calvin and Hobbes. You know, sleep in hiding while my clone endures all this, then pull the switch around noon or so. Hell, I'd settle for 10 even. Well, at least I still have the Transmogrifier and the Flying Time Machine! Jokes on you kid!"
To Oliver: Okay, spiele zeit.
Oliver: Good! I found a cardboard box we can tear up and kick around!
To myself: *Crying softly* "I am bested."

All in all though, I am having quite a pleasant time, and am quite glad that I am able to celebrate Christmas with Anja. Since she reads this blog though, I obviously can only allude to the horrible cruelties that she is inflicting upon me, and can't mention them specifically. It's late now, and Anja and I are off to her aunt's near Dresden tomorrow, so I'll call it quits and get a bit of sleep before Oliver makes his judgment rounds. Tschüs!