Chapter 10 The Talk
Bad Touch Trio! Maria learns some valuable information
"It's awesome!" Gilbert boasted to Antonio and Francis; they were taking a break during the World Meeting in London. His parental leave was up and he was back to attending meetings, as well as the German states' Bundesrat. He was telling his friends about his childcare arrangements for Maria. "She plays outside everyday in the woods near Lake Müritz, and she is so happy and filled with new things she learns. Best of all," he nodded knowingly to his friends, "she sleeps like a rock at night!"
Spain raised an eyebrow. "I could see that working in my country, but you're in Northern Germany! It has to get too cold to let los más pequeños play outside!"1
Gilbert shrugged. "I just bundle her up in the right clothing. Lili and Vash gave me great advice on the proper underwear and layers. They have a shelter and they go inside for a little bit, but they're out there everyday, rain, sun, or snow." Antonio and Francis still looked a little concerned, but he had seen how the Waldkindergarten took care of the children.2 Besides, Maria loved it, and Gilbert figured he had spent most of his childhood out of doors in less clothing and enjoyable circumstances, so this was a good thing.
"Who's watching la petite fille while you and Liechtenstein are here, mon copain?" France asked.
"I hired an au pair," Gilbert responded. He had tried to get Lower Saxony or Thuringia to watch Maria every week he was gone for World Meetings, but it had not worked out. Instead, he had decided to hire an au pair who could help with Maria in the afternoons after she came home from Waldkindergarten and during the weeks he was away. He had tried a couple of local girls: one promptly left when she went to university out of Mecklenberg-Vorpommern and the other decided to live with a boy she met on holiday in Schleswig-Holstein. He had hired a Polish mortal, a young woman named Sofia, who was cheerful, inexpensive, and best of all, committed to staying in Germany. He told Francis and Antonio how hard-working and patient Sofia was, and how Maria seemed to like her.
"Honhonhon," France chuckled. "Does Lili know about la polonaise? You know what my boss Napoleon said about them. Les femmes les plus belles d'Europe!"3 He winked knowingly at Gilbert.
Gilbert rolled his eyes. He had had his share of Polish females from his tragic, troubled relationship with Poland's sister, the Baltic port city of Gdansk. "You know I can't stand how mortals smell," he grumbled. "Besides, she doesn't live with us; she has an apartment that she shares with her roommate when she's not taking care of Maria."
Francis shrugged; he was known for gifting his mortal conquests with beautiful perfumes, so the lingering undernotes of rot never bothered him. "Someday I must come and visit you, see ton petite et la polonaise," he purred.4"I would like to see the delicate beauty, the innocent charm, the—"
Spain interrupted him."Pictures, hermano, I demand pictures of Maria!" Gilbert was only too happy to show him the latest photos of Maria he had on his phone. Antonio grinned and shook his head in admiration at the little girl playing in the Baltic surf or proudly walking Willi in the snow-covered forest. "She's what, five years old now?"
"Approximately." Gilbert couldn't help smiling as he looked at the pictures with his friends. Maria did most of her growing during the summer months; it made sense since that was when Mecklenburg-Vorpommern's population and economy grew. Right now, her head rested at his hip or Lili's waist; she was definitely going to be taller than her Muti when she was done growing.
And speaking of Lili, there she was, coming up to the Bad Touch Trio with Switzerland, Austria, and Hungary. They clustered around Gilbert's phone with France and Spain, checking out the new photos. "Should we call her now?" Lili asked.
"Let's wait until after dinner, Liebling," Gilbert said. "She's not back from Waldkindergarten yet." The group of nations began to walk towards Westminster, where the World Meetings were held. He was so happy to be back among adults, talking about important things, as well as catching up on all the latest gossip. It was good to hear someone call him "Eastern Germany" or "Gilbert" or even "Idiot"; he needed to remember that he was something other than Vati or Herr Bielschmidt, Maria's Vater. Best of all, he loved it when he and Lili lay in each other's arms at night, and she called him irh Ritter, irh Geliebter, ihr Preußen.5 They didn't have to worry about curious little ears or eyes venturing on their lovemaking and demanding an explanation.
By the end of the week, Gilbert felt refreshed and keen to see his little girl and hear about her latest discoveries, triumphs, and observations. He parted tenderly with Lili, who promised to join him in a week, and caught his flight with Ludwig back to Berlin. When he got back to Neustrelitz in the evening, he was eager to see Maria and spend some time with her before her bedtime. As he unlocked his apartment door, he smiled when he heard her squeal and Sofia's voice remind her that Vati was coming.
The child darted into his arms, full of kisses and cries of "Vati, I missed you!" He loved the faint scent of pine and ocean air that lingered around her neck and hair and he realized how much he had missed her energy and the way she gazed adoringly at him. Lili had said he was her hero, but she said it as an adult, fully aware of the failures and shame he had overcome in his existence; when Maria looked at him, it was without that past. To her, he was simply the handsomest, wisest, funniest, most awesome Vater that ever lived.
"And I missed you, Spatzchen!" He said, kissing her cheeks. Maria grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the kitchen table. "Sofia and I made dinner," she said proudly. "We made kiełbaski, kapusta i ziemniaki !" Gilbert froze; the child had pronounced the Polish perfectly. "Do you know what I just said, Vati?" She asked.
"Ja," he said slowly. "You said 'sausages, cabbage and potatoes' in Polish." He turned to look at Sofia, whose expression shifted from proud to worried.
Maria didn't catch the tone in his voice. "How did you know that, Vati? You spoiled my surprise!"
"I'm fluent in Polish, Liebling." He bent down and kissed the child on her head. Sofia brought the serving dishes to the table and stood awkwardly, twisting her hands.
Gilbert looked up at her. "Ja?" He really hoped she wasn't expecting to eat with them; he was already beginning to wonder if he could get another au pair, a German one.
Sofia smiled nervously. "Herr Bielschmidt, something happened at the Waldkindergarten on Friday that I wanted to tell you about in person." She lowered her voice. "The director and teacher want to talk to you about it tomorrow morning. Otherwise, they don't want Maria to come back."
Gilbert paused, serving spoon with cabbage still in the air. "What happened?" He turned to look at his child, who was happily smashing her boiled potatoes all over her plate.
Sofia swallowed hard. "She insulted a classmate and the teacher." She leaned closer. "Furthermore, when I talked to her about this, she insulted me." The Polish woman's blue almond-shaped eyes began to shimmer.
"I said you smelled like dead sausage. I like dead sausage," Maria replied, taking a bite from the wurst on her fork.
Sofia looked pained and then turned to Gilbert. "Apparently when her best friend in Waldkindergarten hugged her, she told her to go away because she smelled like a rotten dead fish. The child understandably was upset and told the teacher. When the teacher spoke to Maria, she said she smelled like a rotten dead fish also."
"But it's true—" Maria began to whine, but Gilbert cut her off with a sharp "Ruhe!" He was starting to see all too well what had happened. He knew she would notice something at some point, but he didn't expect it to be so early and so bluntly, terribly managed. He studied Maria, who was eating in sulky silence. Then he sighed and pulled a chair out for Sofia. The au pair smiled and murmured, "Danke," as she helped herself to the food.
"Hypersensitive sense of smell runs in my side of the family," he said. It wasn't exactly a lie, he told himself, and besides Sofia was a mortal, a Polish one at that; lies didn't count in this kind of situation. "And as you might have figured out, blunt honesty runs in the family also."
"Vati says you should always tell the truth. Ja, Vati?" Maria looked expectantly at him, wide amethyst eyes shining.
"Ja, but sometimes you have to think of how and when to tell the truth, not just blurt it out," Gilbert sighed. He saw that Sofia seemed to relax a little. "For example, Maria, there's telling a truth to help someone and then there's telling the truth to hurt someone. Why did you say those things to your friend, teacher and Sofia? Did you think you were helping or hurting them?"
"They could take better baths?" Maria said. Gilbert noted that Sofia's lips tightened; he knew that look all too well.
"Nein, I'm sure that they all are very clean," he said, hoping that would not insult the Polish au pair. "You hurt their feelings, saying something like that."
Maria put her fork down, hurt. "But they hurt my nose," she began. "Sabine smelled awful, like that dead fish we found on the beach. Why can't she take a bath?"
"I'll explain to you later," Gilbert sighed. He turned to Sofia, who had only picked at her small servings of food. "I'm very sorry for what she said to you." He turned to Maria, who was sulking. "Maria, please say 'I'm sorry' to Fraulein Sofia." The child opened her mouth to protest, but he shot her a warning glance. "Fraulein has been very good to you all week and has taught you some words in her own language. You should say sorry for saying such a thoughtless thing to her."
"Es tut mir leid, Sophia," Maria whispered. She slid off her chair and put her arms around the au pair's neck. Gilbert noted with amusement that she held her breath until her face turned red. "Pryzko mi," she gasped and then ran back to her seat.6 Sofia thanked her and then asked to be excused. Gilbert walked her back to the door and paid her for the week. When he returned to the table, he noted Maria had scraped the leftover sausage into Willi's dish. The little dog's greedy eating noises filled the small kitchen.
Gilbert sighed as he stared at Maria. "Maria, I have something important to tell you." He didn't know how he could put the concepts into words a kindergartener could understand, but he was going to try. "You need to pay attention, this is very important."
The child drew her chair closer to him and nodded. He was proud to see how serious her expression was. He took a deep breath and began. "The reason people like Sofia and your friends and teacher smell the way they do has nothing to do with bathing or their skin color or where they come from or anything like that. It's because they are different from us. They are mortals. That means that they will not live forever. They will die; their bodies will stop working and they will no longer move, feel or think. Do you understand that?" She nodded slowly.
"But you and I and Muti and Onkel Ludi and your other aunts and uncles are different," Gilbert continued. "We don't smell like them because we are not mortals. We are not going to die, at least not like they do."
"Are we angels?" Maria asked. He could see how hard she was working to understand by her furrowed brow.
"Nein, Liebling, we are not angels." Gilbert thought about all the unangelic things he and other nations had done over the centuries and he would have smirked if Maria were not staring so earnestly at him. "We are the spirits of nations or cities or states. We look like the people around us and we can get hurt and hungry and sick, but we are not exactly like them. We represent the places that the mortal people live in. Does that make sense?"
"So they live in us?" Maria started to look worried.
"Nein, we're not the land and the buildings, but we represent the spirit of the place. We aren't the mortals' parents or brothers or sisters, but we're kind of like them. We look out for them, we outlive them, but we also work for them." Gilbert was starting to get confused himself. How could he explain to her how she originated, how under certain circumstances and laws a nation could die? How could he tell a five-year child that her future was already set, to represent a part of a nation, to be the face and ears of a people when she actually wasn't one? He really needed another beer, he thought.
"What's a nation, Vati? What's a state?" Maria shifted in her seat.
This is why this kind of talk only works after an entity has learned a little history, Gilbert thought glumly. Ludwig hadn't asked about these things until he was older; but Ludwig had also not spent much time amongst mortals to where he realized the differences between himself and them. "A nation is a part of the world that has its own language and government, a sense among its people that they are independent and unique." He wondered if he should grab a dictionary or encyclopedia to read from. "A state can be part of a nation, like a building block. You put the blocks together and they form a nation, which is also called a country." He was pleased with the building block metaphor. "Actually, Maria, go get a box of your blocks and bring them here, ja?" She nodded eagerly and ran to her room. She returned with her box of wooden blocks and Gilbert pushed aside the dinner plates and took some of the blocks out and placed them on the table.
"Let's pretend that this block is a state," He said. "It has cities, towns, parks, forests, lakes and even is next to the ocean. Let's call it Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, which is the name of the state we live in." Maria nodded. He took another block and placed it next to the first. "This is another state, called Brandenburg, with its own cities and towns and people. But they're not countries, they're part of a collection of states, a nation called Germany." He took out more blocks and clustered them around the others. "So each state alone is pretty small, but when they come together they create a country because they speak the same language, and follow a set of rules that they agree upon." He hoped he hadn't made it too simple, but he was speaking to a five-year old.
"So I own this block, Vati?" Maria picked out the red block that represented her state. "So I'm a princess?" Her voice rose with excitement.
"Nein, you are a state, you're not the state's ruler. You represent the spirit of the land and people who live here. Just like I," Gilbert picked up the black block that represented Brandenburg, "represent the spirit of this state. And Tante Monika represents a block, like Tante Magda, but Onkel Ludi represents all of these." He waved his hand over the collection of blocks. "See how the group of blocks make a shape, Maria? Onkel Ludi is the nation of Germany, which is this shape." He looked back at the child. "Do you understand, Maria?"
She stuck a strand of hair in her mouth and nodded. Gilbert wondered if she was just humoring him. "Which block is Muti?" she asked.
"Muti is her own nation, not a state of Germany. Muti is a little country called Liechtenstein. And her brother, Onkel Vash, who took us sailing over the summer, is a country called Switzerland." He wanted to wrap this up; he was tired, and he was sure it was past her bedtime. "As you get older, you'll understand this better. But the main thing is that mortals smell like rotten meat because they're going to die, and nations don't. And it's important to pretend you don't notice that smell on mortals or at least don't talk about it. They don't know they smell like that and it's not a nice thing to remind them about." He started to put the blocks back in their box and Maria helped him.
"Tomorrow, we're going back to Waldkindergarten and I'm going to talk to your teacher about what you did on Friday," he reminded her as he tucked her into bed. "You are going to say you're sorry to your teacher and your friend and you're not going to mention dead fish or sausage or anything like that to mortals again, ja? And don't tell them that you represent a state or anything that I've told you about this. It's a secret!" Maria nodded, brain overloaded and ready to sleep. Gilbert kissed her smooth forehead. "Guten nacht, mein klein Land."7
So what do you think of Gilbert's explanation to Maria? And what do you think of our little kindergartener?
1 Spanish: the little ones
2 German: literally, forest kindergarten. An educational/daycare program for three-to-six year olds built around the premise that children will learn and develop better by interacting in and with natural settings.
3 French: the Polish woman. The most beautiful women in Europe. Ah, Francis, my Polish-American mom would love you…
4 French: the little one and the Polish woman
5 German: her knight, her lover, her Prussia
6 Polish: I'm sorry
7 German: Good night, my little state.