Nur die Harten kommen in den (Kinder)garten

Hast du etwas Zeit für mich,
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich;
Von 99 Luftballons,
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont.
Denkst du vielleicht grad an mich?
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich,
Von 99 Luftballons,
Und, dass so was von so was kommt.

~Nena

作家 (さっか): 草間 彌生  (くさま やよい)

Introduction.

"Only the Strong come in the (kid)garden." Translated less directly, but more meaningfully, "Only the strong survive nursery." Because we recently had a request for more international material, we have decided to give a small tip of the hat to the numerous German-speakers who read this blog. One caveat to take note of: It has been at least 30 years since either of us had a full conversation in German, so we are a bit rusty.

We spent quite a bit of time looking for a song in German to feature, but we finally settled on essentially the only song in German that is recognizable to at least a double-digit percentage of the population. Based on our research, the Germans stopped singing in German in about 1960. (Which is right around the time the Beatles invaded Germany........interesting).

Astrid Kirchherr took this photo.
Her boyfriend (Stuart Sutcliffe) is wearing the sunglasses.
He was the original bass player.

Der Kindergarten.

Before we go too far adrift with music history, we should introduce the actual topic of this post. As alluded to in the title, we, the engineers of Domestic Engineering, Inc. have recently taken an assignment to assist in the nursery at church. In the ensuing weeks since rising to the call, we have heard many jokes about contraception, ineptitude, diapers, bubbles, youth, offspring, and anti-depressants.  (And even some jokes about offspring and antidepressants as a single topic).

Admittedly, Engineer R was less than thrilled about having to manage 15 young children on the weekends. He handles so much plutonium at his job during the week that he really would rather avoid health hazards on his days off.

The difficult irony is that the people who have actual day to day experience wrangling kinders are usually the last people on the planet who want to wrangle kinders on a Sunday. And the people who possess little experience wrangling kinders are also usually the last people on the planet who want to wrangle kinders on a Sunday. Wait. Does that mean that no one wants to be in charge of gardening the children? Hmmmmmm.

Now, we have heard of people at church who actually profess some sort of aspiration to join the nursery. It is unclear at times if they intend to join as a kid or as a leader. We have also taken note that usually such comments are tendered only by persons who have labored for long periods in callings where they have to essentially play nursery leader to adults. They have already reached catatonia (Die Katatonie) and they no longer want to be called upon to solve people's problems. They want to just slide away to a small room full of toys, where they can hide out their days in obscurity. 

The Nursery Mascot. Yes, that is a snake around the neck.

Benefits.

There are, of course, some benefits to working in the nursery. It is essentially the only position at church where you are guaranteed a snack every week. There is also the aforementioned benefit of being able to hide from any actual labor or responsibility. And you get out of laborious third-hour meetings where people just sit and debate about ministering every bless-ed week. (With the most recent changes, perhaps we now will just debate about the need for 2-hour meetings).

Linguistics and Sociology.

Although not usually cited as an actual benefit, the nursery can also provide an educational forum for studying linguistics and sociology. The names people give their kids these days are something to behold: Prixtley, Kwinten, Zandlee, Hendiryx, Vahnysha, Tom (pronounced "JAY-kub"), you get the gist. I must say that I fear for some of these children in 20 years when they need to enter the adult workforce. I mean, are you really going to hire Traxstin Hanks, Esq. to perform your legal work?

Too hoom it mae consurn,

I am an atturnee and I halve preepared this wyll for mie clyent. All uv the monee is to go to hiz onlee sun Jakxtin. Mie clyunts hows iz too go tu the dawter that lives in Jaxon, Missasipy on the benks of the Haynky-Panky, ware the bullfrawgs jump from benk to benky.

Now, of course, the pronunciation of some names in English has long been in conflict with the spelling of some names in English. Look no further than Jane Eyre with "Sin Jin" (St. John) the clergyman. Somehow the British seem to get away with handmuffing all sorts of questionable English pronunciations across the table. It's like an awful game of Pit where someone does not get the fact that a flax card, an UNO card, and the Bear do not constitute a "four," but you just have to put up with calling them Mrs. "Fanshaw" even though they spell it Featherstonehaugh. All because they say it with a British accent.

This section can be summarized with a quote from the 1964 fraternal twin books 3000 Names for Girls and 3000 Names for Boys:

Avoid an unusual spelling of a name if it makes the name difficult to pronounce. No one wants to go through life hearing his or her name mispronounced and, worse perhaps, no one wants a name that new acquanintances are hesitant or embarassed to say aloud.

Conclusion.

We conclude with a list of things we never thought we would say, but that we yet find ourselves saying.

• "Please do not use the toilet as a sink!"
• "Please do not use the sink as a toilet!"
• "Stop licking your neighbor."
• "Stop licking your neighbor's Play-Doh."
• "Put your shirt back on please."
• "Jesus does not want you to become a pirate."
• "Do not put raisins in your nose."
• "Please remove the dinosaur from your pants."
• "The sunbeam sticks are not for picking your nose."
• "Why are you wearing swimming goggles to nursery?"
• "[Girl], please stop flirting with the boys."
• "[Boy], please remember not to throw the babies."
• "[Boy 1], do not ride [Boy 2] like a horse."
• "[Girl], why are you hiding under the table with a toy snake?"

After a Long Time

There’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend
~Bob Dylan, Duluth, MN. 
 

On a slow boat to China.

~Frank Loesser, New York City, NY.

After a significant period of time away from the blog, we have returned to writing.  We know of people with several younglings still at home who pump out more blog posts, so the gauntlet has already been thrown and we have fallen short. (Note: Although there have been some rumors that we were consumed with pursuing opportunities in the luxury chicken diaper business, such rumors are false). 

Back in the day, on his old blog, Engineer R was much more consistent with pumping out posts. It wasn't necessarily that he had more time then, but rather that he had a more reliable paycheck and didn't have to do the double-dutch with a duo of distracting dogs.

As it would obviously be impossible to relate all that has happened since the last installment, we will forebear with trying to formally catch readers up on what transpired and proceed from where we currently stand.

First, a general thought for the day:

"If one desires to remain in one's job for any significant length of time, missing 40% of your scheduled meetings with clients usually will not bode favorably in any regard when your on-the-job performance comes into question before upper-level administration. They will act swiftly and succinctly in removing you from your duties. Your self-inflicted predicament will be exacerbated by writing explosive epistles in response to their decisions."

That is a quote from Effective Tools for Being an Effective Playground Aide, written by Jorgia Loois. We have found this to be an apropos quotation as of late.

On a completely unrelated note, Engineer R has successfully defended his dissertation. We will not entertain you with the details of the dissertation or the defense thereof, but anyone desiring to read it can contact Engineer R and he will send you a digital copy. He can also try to procure a bound hard copy for the cost of $20 if you are really, really, really desperate. In fact, Engineer R has already had someone request an exclusive copy from which they* can borrow and promulgate important passages they do not know anything about! Very Exciting! He was thrilled to hear of this reader's enthusiasm for his work.

In line with his successful defense, Engineer R can now begin his full-time job. Due to a number of security protocols stemming from the classified nature of his work, he is unable to disclose where he works or who he works for. Furthermore, in answer to several inquiries on the matter, no, he cannot give away his keypass to the plutonium storage facility. He is only allowed to take three guests a year and he has already used up his allotment. A spot for the year 2019 can be held for a small fee (no personal checks please).

Engineer J recently began a job working in the medical industry. She too is unable to disclose the details of her job, as doing such would violate hippo privacy law. Who knows why we're so concerned about preserving these hippos' privacy, but I guess it's always a good idea to avoid angering the largest artiodactyl (even-toed ungulate) on the planet.

This hippo is skeptical of any promises of privacy.
He is pretty sure the giraffes just leaked his banking information.

We will attempt to be more consistent about posting regularly now that we are doing "real life" again. As always though, one's intentions may not be matched by one's actual actions.

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*Yes, as the grammar police persons will note, this should be "he or she," not the plural pronoun "they." Modern English has come to accept this usage of "they," however, and we here find it to be usefully vague. We can solace in the fact that there exists no sentences in this post which end in prepositions, which should make the Latin purists pleased.