Martha's syntax has become very literary of late. Of course, this warms my (Bachelor of Arts) heart. The other night she and Cy started fighting. She got up and walked away.

Martha: Cy! You stink!

Me: What?

Martha: Cy when you scream your voice stinks!

A couple days later she was arguing with Sabine.

Sabine: Martha, don't be so mean (Martha, sei nicht so gemein).

Martha: It's not me, it's my mood (Ich kann nichts dafür, meine Stimmung ist so gemein).

On the other side, Cy is deep in his why phase.

Sabine: I'm going to send a quick SMS (Ich schicke schnell eine SMS).

Cy: Does it then just fly through the world (Fliegt sie durch die Welt)?

Cy and I's weekend in Worpswede didn't go as planned. It was too much for both of us. During the trip there, he was terrified that we'd get separated or lose our bike or trailer while changing trains, which wore us both out.

The first night was great but things went downhill shortly after breakfast the next day:
He refused to get in a kayak without Martha (temper tantrum)
I arranged for him to ride a pony Sunday morning. He didn't want to ride a pony, he wanted to ride a horse (temper tantrum)
He didn't want just one scoop of ice cream, he wanted two -- and he certainly didn't want my two scoops of ice cream (temper tantrum).

So we left a day early and rented a car in Bremen to avoid the horrors of the train. Sunday we went to the zoo and then spent a couple hours at a street theater festival next to the Gedächtniskirche.

He was an entirely different kid.

Meanwhile, Martha, Sabine and Kathrin had an excellent time in Hamburg, eating breakfast, shopping and sunning themselves on the Elbe.

When Sabine was pregnant with Cy and we would tell German friends that we were expecting a boy, they would turn to me with a bit of a sad face. "Boys are easier," they would say, "until they're grown up."

Then there would be a pause. And they'd say:

"Then they have to kill off their father. Figuratively, of course."

At first I just shook my head and forgot about but it got to be so common that I threw the concept into google. Uncle Google told me it's a Freud thing (I never had Psych 101). It's all related to Oedipus and the idea that fathers are standing in the way of their sons.

I've never put much stock in Freud, so I just filed it away somewhere in my brain. Then I started reading things about child development (I wish I could say books but, to be honest, I never made it that far) and every one of them -- English or German -- referred to an Oedipal phase with little boys where they realize they are different from their mothers and go through a sort of emotional separation.

I didn't put much stock in that either until last week.

Suddenly I am the most important person in Cy's world. It happened over night. He fights with Sabine constantly (but, to be honest, he's always been a bit of a contrarian) and always wants my attention. It's improving his English because he wants to communicate with me on our own level. It happened from one moment to the next.

Since I'm a bit of a self-conscious parent, it's nice to have a little reassurance from the midget squad. But I'm also glad to be there for him. The whole thing coincides with a long-planned boys' weekend in Worpswede (where else?) with just me and him. Martha and Sabine are visiting Kathrin in Hamburg.

These Freud things pop up semi-regularly in my tenure here, but this is the only time I might -- sort of -- believe him. After the honeymoon Cy and I have been having over the past week, it would kill me if he did indeed have to kill me.