Bright Side of OPOL

The other day, Punk 2 and I gave Punk 1 and her friend who was over and also knows all about the joys little brothers bring to one’s life, a break. We left The Husband to watch football while the girls painted his toe nails pink in charge, and went to my friend’s house. Coffee and cupcakes for us Mamas, and a little German play date for Punk 2 – two birds, one stone kind of thing, you know.

As Punk 2 is equal parts stubborn and shy by nature, more often than not, going somewhere without his big sister in tow goes something like this: on the way over, he chatters away about visiting so-and-so, and playing trains/trucks/ball with whatever kid we happen to be visiting. When we get there, he is too scared to go into their house and only reluctantly follows suit when I start taking off my boots. He then doesn’t leave my side for at least 30 minutes, more likely an hour or even the entire time we are there. He may not talk to anyone, except for whispering his wishes and needs into my ear, and is likely to bury his face in my shoulder when someone dares address him directly. He merely nods slightly to accept any offers of cookies or anything else he really likes. When he notices things are wrapping up, he is the first one by the door. But as soon as we are outside, he begins talking about how much fun he had and how we should see them, whoever it was, again soon. For the next few days, he also tells everyone that he visited so-and-so, had a lot of fun, and is really hoping we will go again soon.

But this time it was different. In a good way.

Not only did he make himself feel at home there right away, he also spoke to everyone. In the appropriate language, which really is my main point, even though it’s kind of hidden all the way down here. He spoke German with my friend, English with her husband, and German with his play date when she finally woke up from her nap. I had never seen such a clear delineation of languages from him, as he often mixes an individual word from the ‘wrong’ language into his conversations. My friend was all impressed, too, and is now hoping that her daughter, a year younger than Punk 2, will eventually stop mixing madly, too.

I think this really is OPOL (One Parent One Language) at work. Even though we are not entirely strict with it and I do sometimes speak, read or sing with the kidlets in English, they’re both getting enough of it to know and be able to keep their languages separate, depending on who they are speaking to. But it’s nice to see it so clearly for once from young Punk 2. He who has gone from mixing with the best of them, to solely speaking German with everyone, to keeping things pretty straight to keeping it totally straight now in less than a year. If only for an afternoon. This really was the first time he’s been able to pull it off.

So I’m quite proud of the boy. I’m happy for him that he overcame his shyness for once (there’s hope, Sarah!), and excited that he has such a clear grasp of what language to use with whom. ‘Cause the thing is, although until a week ago or so he spoke mainly German with me, he’s switched to mainly English and I now constantly have to remind him to speak German with me.