I'm not sure where everyone else's kids are in their stages of "hanging out", but Megan has rarely done something like this -- she was going to leave for school at 8:00 am (she walks alone), and we wouldn't see her again until 10:30 pm? She would be going to someone's house we don't know? She's going to ride in someone's car to an event we've never attended? The parents of each of the girls speak English, and so does one of the three girls (the other two "speak a little bit," according to Megan), but we are still outsiders enough that it's difficult to feel fully informed about what is going on. Still, we'd like Megan to feel more comfortable with friends here, and we want her to start developing a bit more independence (hence why she walks to school alone), so we decided to send her out into the world, armed only with our phone numbers and address.
Kim was a bit more blase about it than I was -- I thought about her every few minutes throughout the day, wondering what was going on. Did she get an after school snack? Was she getting hangry, alienating her new friends? Were they joking in Norwegian, with Meggie feeling left out?
Well, you more seasoned parents out there can probably guess how things went. Of course, she had a blast. They had tacos for dinner, which Megan loves. It was Beatles night at Norwegian Idol, and she knew all the songs. She got home at 10:48, and was bouncing off the walls with excitement. She felt so bad for the girl that got kicked off the show. She wondered if an American could try out for Norwegian Idol, but then decided that she couldn't do it because she didn't want to cry in front of everyone. She thinks she was on TV at least some point during the taping. In short, everything was awesome.
I don't have any pictures of her night, so here she is with a moose.
Well, I was so busy thinking about Megan all day, that it didn't occur to me what excitement Henry was getting up to. When I got home from work, I asked him how his day was.
"Fine," he replied.
I asked him about his new Norwegian tutoring, where they take him out of class.
"It was good," he said.
"Did you learn any new words?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "and we got stuck in the elevator for a little bit."
"Interesting," I responded, turning back to my dinner. Kim came and sat down next to us.
"Did Henry tell you what happened to him today?" she asked.
"Yes, he said he had Norwegian class, and he got stuck in the elevator for a little bit."
"Did he tell you the fire department had to come get him out?"
What! As it turns out, Henry and his tutor climbed into the rickety old elevator at his school that never gets used, and got stuck between the first and second floors. He was in there for "around 40 minutes", he says casually. I asked him if he was nervous, and he says no. I asked if his tutor was nervous, and he said, (again, casually), "she was freaking out." I bet she was. Apparently I need to do a bit more delving when I'm asking Henry about his day, since something as momentous as being rescued from a trapped elevator by the fire department doesn't even merit a re-telling for dad.
He doesn't get phased by much. Here he is precariously perched atop his "favorite place" on the playground.


