Fasching

The wait! The excitement! The run for the tickets! So Saturday the big day finally arrived. Kindergarten Faschingsparty at the community centre (nope, has nothing to do with fascism despite the similar phonetics, the etymological root of the Bavarian word for carnival is actually Fastenschank, meaning the last drinks to be had before the fast, which obviously starts the day after Mardi Gras). There were lengthy discussions and screamfests about the costume. We rooted for Spiderman (prefab costume in closet, no work at all), Karl wanted to be a king (he supposedly promised some girl he would be, we left out the strange connotations and misogynistic undertones and explained to him that we are neither in the posession of a crown nor a crimson coat), so we settled on pirate (medium work, most important item "pirate saber" already weapon of choice for a while around here). Serendipity had it that the outcome of his best friend Ludwig's screamfests had a similar outcome.



Henri was easy. He just wanted to put something on his head. We made it just in time for the magicians' show. Which was a bit odd bordering on the bizarre. Hardy is supposedly a well-known children's magician famous for the educational value of his act. He struck me as a bit over-cafeeinated and his manners and style of jokes had the air of an aging drag queen bored by her own routine. Still the kids loved it, even though a few magic tricks, most punchlines and the thread of comprehension got kinda lost. Well, he did pull a rabbit out of his hat (see small image). And you really can't blame the guy, he's been at it since the 70s. When he had his first line of of personalized magicians' kits produced:



After the show the level of craziness rose parallel to the intake of sugar and carbonated drinks. Karl and Ludwig did their costumes justice and ganged up on a few other kids. I had to blue-helmet them out of threatening princesses with pointy weapons. And they did get chased down by a bunch of older ninjas with even bigger swords, which ended in tears (Karl) and scolding (me, some other parents' kids).



Today the Fasching mood continued. Henri tried out.... well, you guess what his costume is supposed to be.



Not sure what Karl's inspiration was. Maybe I can spend my later years on his posh estate on some tropical beachfront where there's no extradition treaty (well, as they say, when it comes to your boys, think Biggs).