Red Hot Molli Pepper

I’ve given up on the one-click photo sharing thing because it’s just too big a pain in the butt when I want to use more than one image. Instead, I’m probably going to move the whole JustMorons site onto a new web host that’s only thirty or forty bucks a year to host, instead of the high price I’ve been paying since 2000.

(I might still use the one-click feature from time to time if I just want to post a single shot.)

I promised recently, I think, that I’d share some pictures of Molli’s vuggestue, which is called Troldehøj. The literal translation of “troldehøj” is “troll high,” but in Denmark little kids are often referred to as trolls—the same way we might speak of, say, ankle-biters. But even more commonly… like tot, maybe. There is, for example, a store in our neighborhood called “Tøj til Trolde,” which just means “Clothes for Trolls.” It’s a children’s clothing store. I keep translating in my head as “toys for tots,” which is really, really wrong, but kind of inevitable because “tøj” is pronounced (almost) exactly like the English “toy.”

Hell of a digression, sorry.

Anyway, the vuggestue is one of a couple of vuggestues in this little, sealed-off campus in the middle of Frederiksberg. I really mean the middle of Frederiksberg: it’s right between the mall, the business school, the teaching school, and a high school. And yet it’s arranged so nicely that it has a very pastoral feel if you refrain from looking up at the buildings looming around you.

Here’s a shot of the main part of the yard. To the left is the slide Molli learned how to slide on. Her particular classroom (I think it’s called “the toad room”) is just to the right of this frame. Windows from her classroom are, I think, right behind the bench and flower box in the lower right corner of this shot.

The next shot is from the same spot, but looking in the opposite direction. That’s a swingset way in back there, and those are little playhouses on the right and left.

There’s this one weird playground toy they’ve got that makes me wonder if these kids aren’t being trained to be some kind of commandos. Have you ever seen one of these outside a military training camp?

Danish law, or Troldehøj law, or both, states that I can’t publicly post photographs of children at vuggestue because of concerns over pedophilia or something. I’m not really sure I get the logic, but that’s the law (or the rule or guideline or whatever). So although I doubt you would anyway, please do not share any of the pictures of Molli at vuggestue in any public venue. I’m not sure what that means, but I’ve said it and presumably that’s enough to keep my ass out of jail. So, that said, here’s Molli at vuggestue with some of her peers (not Anna Lina, unfortunately), showing off her Halloween costume.

I think Trine’s addressing the children in this next shot… either that or a UFO just flew by, I can’t remember which…

In one of their collages, the vuggestue itself has a beautiful picture of Molli playing with this pink veil thing. I’ve been trying to recreate it with my own camera. I haven’t even come close, but here’s the best I’ve been able to manage:

(Yes, Molli loves spoons. She enjoys all utensils, but spoons are her particular favorite. She doesn’t do a whole lot with them, but once she gets one in her hand she’s loath to let go.)

Have you noticed her hair? We’re going to have to give those pigtails another shot this weekend.

If there’s one thing vuggestue seems to have taught Molli Malou, it’s the difference between toys and mere things. There’s an overpriced toy store around the corner for us that we used to walk by all the time without Molli giving it a second glance. No more.

She even seems to distinguish between which kinds of toys appeal to her and which don’t. She seems to be going for Goofy here, but it’s hard to tell.

Trine’s been making a lot of soups lately. She made a great beef stew earlier this week and blended a cup for Molli. (We don’t blend Molli’s food very often any more, but it was either that or spend half an hour cutting her beef, potatoes, and carrots into little pieces.) It was a great stew, but after watching me spice up my bowl, Molli insisted on doing the same.

Can you not see the tragedy waiting to happen? But what could we do? There was no getting the bottle away from her at this point without ruining the meal for ourselves, so we just made sure the cap was on tight and let her sprinkle all the make believe hot sauce she wanted into her stew.

She wanted a lot.

I don’t have a picture of what happened next, because what happened next required my immediate intervention: Molli turned the bottle around and stuck the whole upper end of it in her mouth, and started to suck. Yes, the cap was sealed tightly, but we’ve all dealt with hot sauce bottles. You know how it goes.

Here’s her initial reaction.

Here’s what the next sixty seconds looked like.

Eventually she got over it, and to tell you the boring truth I’m still not sure she wasn’t crying more because we so quickly yanked the bottle away from her than from any residual hot sauce making it into her mouth. But we’ll never know, and the pictures are much more interesting as the chronicle of a young girl’s first encounter with (very) hot sauce.

(Trine made Caribbean black bean soup the next day, and used a whole habanero pepper in it—and a tablespoon of tabasco. It’s a wonder any of us have tongues left.)

Our plans are made and our flights are booked and confirmed: we’ll be in Chicago from December 12th to January 2nd, except for the 20th to 27th, when we’ll be in Deep River.