When we enrolled our son in a Danish vuggestue we knew we were actively embracing his education in everything Danish. At two-years-old and fresh off the plane from Canada, it was the perfect age and moment to make such a big leap. However, what we hadn’t factored in was the future language gap with family almost a year later, or more specifically the potential disconnects with him speaking Danish to his English-speaking grandparents. I feel a bit silly admitting I hadn’t given it much thought until we were facing it head on.
My parents were here last month for a 2 ½ week visit which was rich with family time and lots of catching up. It’s also when my new career as an accidental translator began for not only general toddler-speak, but toddler Danish. A new level of motherhood unlocked, a promotion I think?
My son often speaks “Danglish”, a few words of English with Danish mixed in. It’s our normal and I don’t even notice it anymore. But I have to hand it to my parents, especially my Mum for actively asking what my son was saying when she didn’t quite understand. I would often be asked “what does ‘ikke’ mean again?” Or “what about ‘den der’?” She embraced the challenge with bells on and my son was never left feeling misunderstood.
It was sweet to watch my parent’s comprehension evolve through the course of their visit. My father’s first language was German, so his ability to understand Danish far surpasses my Mum’s. However, my Mum is one of THE most determined people I’ve ever met (yeah, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, ha). So, she was busy reading, absorbing and asking questions about signage and words she would hear in her travels. Never one to shy away from a challenge, always learning.
When we initially moved, I’d love to say that I was clever and had thought ahead, planning for this exact predicament by enrolling in Danish language classes (which is partially true). However, no, that’s not entirely why I signed up. I simply wanted to integrate (still do!) and taler Dansk med min søn & venner. Turns out now that I’m two modules in, my comprehension is much better than my ability to speak … which came in handy with facilitating translation services between my son and his grandparents. Come to think of it, I think I partially process in Danglish these days.
But as with most things in life, it takes two to tango. So, if you’re a grandparent of a budding bilingual child, embrace the confusion and embrace the unknown. Be open to the adventure that your grandchild is inviting you on. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. It’s a beautiful experience and one that you’ll never forget.
