Mr. Mom comes to Deutschland

We still love daycare, but last night was a little weird.

It was billed as "Elternabend," which is German for parents evening, but in fact it should have been called "Muetterabend," as I was the only dad, sitting around a teeny table on teeny kids' chairs with 10 moms. We were there to talk about issues and events at the daycare center.

The first item of business concerned "du" vs. "Sie" (the informal vs. the formal address in German). Eve's teacher, whom I love, got into trouble with her boss because she's been using the informal "du" with us parents. The informal style of address completely fits both her personality and the context of our interactions. This woman spends almost as much time with my daughter as I do, wipes her butt, stresses over her moods and her rashes, etc. etc. We've gotten to know each other quite well. Why shouldn't we "du?" At IKEA, 16-year old cashiers I've never laid eyes on address me with the "du."

Apparently it's a ten-year old policy at the daycare center, and the director has decreed there are to be no exceptions. I wanted to ask if we should perhaps also click our heels together when we greet each other, but I held back. I'm not sure that would have made me very popular.

Later the topic came up of what to do for the Christmas party this year. I was going to suggest something with silly hats, colorful cookies, and cheezy music, but the teacher said she thought the children should do a nativity play, and the assembled moms thought this a great idea. It doesn't have to be anything fancy, one mom said. They can just present the characters, and someone can read from Mathew or the Evangelicals.

This conversation took me by surprise because a) it's a state-subsidized daycare center, b) three of the twelve kids in our group are Muslim or Jewish, and c) god-fearing Christians in Berlin are supposed to be about as numerous as Satanic fetishistic performance artists in Fenton, Missouri. But I stayed out of the discussion and was spacing out, dreaming of Polish pastries, I think, until the teacher (the one I love) suddenly pointed to me and said "Warren can play Jesus! He looks like Jesus, doesn't he?!"

I think she was joking, but I wasn't sure. "Ja," I said, "and I'm a Jew too! Just like Jesus!"

Someone laughed and, fortunately, the topic soon changed. After a while, we started talking about the trouble we're all having getting our kids to eat right and sleep through the night. Finally I felt like just one of the girls.