It was an early summer morning when I arrived at their house. The wee people still had sleep in their eyes and were recovering from what felt like one of the summer’s hottest evenings. Mom is the morning person in the family, so Dad was still sleeping in the basement (trying to find some relief from the heat wave) when I arrived.
The girls were pretty quiet and reserved to start. I didn’t blame them: it was still early for me as well. I confess, mornings are not my favorite time of the day. Papa is in charge first thing at our house. I am always trying to cram in a few more zzzzzs before the day kicks off, but my toddler always seems to find me in bed.
I heard the sweet pitter pat of little bare toes on the wood floor as Mom prepared a breakfast of sandwiches and fruit, a very typical Swedish breakfast. Mom chatted with them in Swedish and the older one responded in Swedish while the youngest one focused mostly on copying her sister’s movements. Having a Swedish husband who only speaks to our daughter in Swedish, I was following the conversation pretty well. But then I wanted to interact with the eldest daughter. My self-conscious self spoke to her in English and she looked at me and responded in Swedish. Of course she did…I smiled and Mom translated a bit for me.
We had a very sweet start to the day with breakfast, reading books, dancing (to the “Frozen” soundtrack), tag and picking out their duds for the day. When Dad joined in the fun, we headed outside to the park. I had a great time capturing this family’s summer morning rituals and appreciated the art of raising kiddos in a dual-culture home.