Walking the tightrope

Although I was pleasantly surprised that Utrecht isn't nearly as seedy as I remembered Amsterdam being, I was still prepared when we moved for the occasional need to distract Aislin's attention away from a newsstand here or there. You know, to preserve those conservative family values we hold so dear. Evidently, however, I need to expand the parameters of my vigilance...

I've been trying to pick up as much Dutch as I can, and the quickest way to do that, I've found, is to read as many of the free newspapers as possible that clutter the morning trains. There are at least four different papers to be had each day, so I usually try to scan each to see if I can pick up on what's going on in the world. Of course, my Dutch isn't great, so I usually have to check the English language websites when I get back home. There was the day that I thought Hillary had declared former General Wesley Clark as her running mate, only to discover upon fact checking in my native tongue that I had merely misunderstood the Dutch reporter's cleverly ironic headline in an article saying the 2004 candidate and Hillary supporter had just visited the polderlands to take a gander at some alternative energy options, viz. windmills.

So this morning I was sitting there trying to decide if I was really understanding the article to say that Dutch men spend more time in front of the mirror than Dutch women (which I was, as it turns out). Then my darling 8-year-old, who was sitting across from me finishing her homework, cleared her throat, "Ahem, Mom?"

"Yes, dear?" I responded absentmindedly, nose still buried in paper.

She continued, delicately, "Um, that picture might not be too appropriate for me."

This is roughly the top half of the picture I was holding in front of my daughter's nose, minus the thigh-highs and stilettos:



So much for vigilance, but at least she self-censors. My daughter, that is.