Ba-la-la-la-laika

After that phone call followed some more quality time with Eva, her sister and her brother. Yesterday evening I babysat the three of them, which most of the time turns into something hilarious around the dinner table. For the sake of the four of us I won't go into details here for their parents also know the address of this blog. ;)
Anyway, yesterday (after some raw garlic tasting by bro & sis upon my suggestion - very healthy for the system after all) I helped Eva get ready for bed. Instead of reading a bedtime story, we sung together. First she wanted me to sing songs that both she and I don't know (where is the logic in this one?). Then she disapproved of my repertoir of Dutch children songs. So I resorted to foreign language children songs. Not quite what she was looking for either. Finally I ended up singing the Dutch translation of a Russian drinking song, which I was taught in protestant elementary school (a pretty amazing theme for a song at a good christian school, indeed). There we were, on the top level of a bunk bed, singing about Ivanovich who should drink vodka (and no silly mixes of any kind!), dance and play the balaika (ba-la-la-la-laika) before he takes off on the troika the next morning. So much for some good old-fashioned cultural stereotypes (or intercultural competencies?!) learned just before bedtime.