You Should See Them Climb...

“I promise he’s getting friendlier," I tell the dad of one of Cooper’s classmates, as Nash shakes his head and shouts, “NOOOOO!” This dad and I have become stay-at-home-dad buddies, sharing Swiss beer reviews, exchanging suggestions and frustrations on how to hang things on walls made of cement instead of sheet rock (eventually offering up a good, friendly English-speaking Turkish handyman Lisa found on Facebook as a recommendation), even going shopping together at Ikea, a Swiss Costco, and a lighting store for a day.

Yup, you read that right. You should’ve seen the look we got when we ran into a mom from Cooper’s class in the maze of the Ikea showroom. Two dads shopping together at Ikea, never thought that’d be on any itinerary of mine.

But hey, he’s got a car. His wife got a car with her job, and it’s easier for her to take the bus to work so he can drive his daughter to and from school, so he’s glad to share it. That’s what he was doing, offering us a ride home, which is quicker than the buses we take to and from Coop’s school up the mountain (about 40 minutes each way), and Nash flat out didn’t want to ride in someone else’s car or car seat. So as graciously as you can while holding a hollering two-and-a-half-year-old, I declined the quick ride back down to our place, and we headed back to the bus stop by the school instead. As we approached the bus, the feeling of Fall shook me out of our normal routine, and I decided we’d head into the Sauvabelin forest by Cooper’s school to check out the leaves, to enjoy the crisp morning air and get a little exercise, and to let Nash explore and play along the trails.

And Nash rolls with it. He really is coming out of his shell and into his own. The kid who couldn’t talk until after he was two never even takes a moment to breathe now. The words rush and tumble out of him. Resting Nash Face only makes an occasional appearance these days; it’s being replaced with a mischievous smirk more and more week by week. “I wike all the leaves, Daddy!” he blurts out. “Are der Spiders in here? Are der wolfs?” He hops out of the stroller (we walk so much we still take it every where, his stumpy legs are hanging in there for greater and greater distances, but they still wear out before too long) and points out some mushrooms; “Wook at dees, my Daddy!” We become mushroom hunters, finding tall skinny ones like folded up umbrellas and short round ones like little toad houses, brown ones and white ones, the ones that hug the damp ground and others that sprout out sideways from musty stumps.

I’d heard there’s a tower in the forest, where you get a great view of Lausanne, the lake, and the mountains. I look for signs and try to apply my limited French (two lessons in now, merci beaucoup) to see if we can wind our way to it. As we cross bridges and trudge uphill, I spot a stick that looks just like a wand. Cooper has become mesmerized by the first few Harry Potter movies, so Nash has been sucked in too, naturally. He’s got the taste in all things that all second siblings have—he loves whatever Cooper loves at this point. I hand him the wand, telling him to be careful, that some wizard, maybe even Hagrid (his favorite) might have dropped it here. Beaming, he shows off just how careful he can be by pointing it right at me and shouting “Expecto Patronum!” Pshu, Pshu, Pshu he fires that wand all over the woods, at every doggie he sees unless unfazed they come close enough for him to stick out his hand to be licked. And then, as we round the next bend, the tower appears right ahead of us:

“Whoa, dat’s cool!”

So we head over to the turnstile doors that lead in. I push hard and it doesn’t budge. Really, after we find it it’s closed? I thought the sign said it was almost always open. I push and pull and can’t get it to move. Preparing to try and let Nash down gently, a feat no one has ever pulled off, I step back and see someone else coming up to the tower entrance. I act like I’m getting something in the stroller and notice that this guy pushes a small, easily-overlooked (at least that’s how I justify it) button that frees up the turnstile. We’re in. The tower has three twisting tiers of steep stairs, with a platform for rest between each one, on the way to the top. I thought I’d carry him up the steps, but he braves them himself before I can even offer. Rushing up and climbing all on his own at first, taking my hand or finger in his tight little grip when he gets a little worn down, he scales the tower one grunting step at a time.

That’s what these boys do over here. They push on and they adapt. They surprise us with what they figure out and can do on their own. They’re resilient and brave and they love the autonomy. They’re not just surviving; it’s kind of remarkable how they’re thriving. Cooper can’t wait to tell others which buses to take if they don’t know. He hops down and holds the button on the outside of the bus door so Nash can hop down on his own while I lug the stroller on and off. They both know some of the landmarks, shops, and major bus stops by heart. Nash is so good at his scooter, we let him keep up with Cooper. A lot of times it scares others at first who then become impressed at how such a little dude can hold his own, do his own tricks, and use his back shoe to slow down and keep control on his little red Radio Flyer scooter too. He’s following in the footsteps of his older brother who always begs to go to a skate park with his scooter, bro. I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask Père Noël/Santa Claus for a skateboard.

The day after scaling the tower, Cooper had the day off for parent teacher conferences. His first choice for the day was, of course, the skate park. But since it was raining all day, we punted, and in our rain gear we made our way back to, you guessed it, the tower. He had to find his own wand in the woods, too. (When Nash told him he found a wizard wand in the woods after school the day before, the look on Cooper’s face, trying to figure out if we’d found an actual wand, was so genuine and pure: “Wait…wha—what, what spells does it do?!?”) This time, the rain and the cold took a little of Nash’s spunk away. He asked me to carry him for the second visit. But he was the tour guide, the tower guide, for Cooper, loving his roll as the experienced expert the whole way up and down. On the way back to the bus, they debated the questions that vex generations, like who’d win in classic match ups like Harry Potter versus Luke Skywalker, Chewie versus Hulk, Dumbledore versus Darth Vader, and Voldemort versus Spiderman in between duels with their new wands, of course.

It’s been a magical week, including and even beyond their new wizarding ways. Yesterday it snowed, big, feathery flurries that blew the mind of a two-year-old who’s never seen snow before and lit up some fuzzy memories of snowy delight for Cooper too. I’ve never seen a snow angel made with less snow on the ground; it was still too warm to stick. They couldn’t stop sticking out their tongues, their hands, staring at the sky, dancing in circles…puppies have less energy than these two in their first Swiss snow.

They’re setting up the Christmas market in town. As the temperature drops, Wonder seems to blow in with the cold winter winds. These two have long lists at night when I ask them what they were thankful for today. They sleep hard because they live life fully, embracing their growing confidence in life here in Lausanne, excited about what they just might find next. Holy smokes, it’s fun to ride their coattails, and seize the adventure along with them.