Venturing off to Vuggestue
Our son was on the cusp of turning two when my husband and I left our support network in
Canada in exchange for a new life in Copenhagen. We packed up our lives and boarded a plane into the relative unknown. I cried when the plane took off from familiar soil, floating and gently bobbing in the air as it gained altitude. The sudden realization that I was saying goodbye to my homeland was mixed equally with excitement for what lay before us.
Relocating after spending my entire life in one place has felt like a rebirth. A transformative experience for myself, along with that of how we have chosen to parent our son. Within two months of settling into the Danish way of life, thanks to the efficiency of the Danish system, our son was facing the start of vuggestue (Danish daycare). On his first day I’m sure my anxiety was palpable. Armed with a month or so of daily Danish lessons (via a trusty free language app) I was hoping I knew enough to understand the day ahead. This hope, my friends, was ill placed.
As we walked through the doors of his vuggestue we were greeted warmly. A brief exchange in English, then we were awash with Danish immersion. If I was confused, English was always an option. Otherwise, Danish it was. And Danish, as I’ve since discovered, is full of words that are half swallowed or mashed together and letters that aren’t pronounced as they appear. Plus, it’s spoken at a rapid pace. I struggled to translate anything. Before lunch we were sent home in a fog of tiredness and hunger.
One week in, the kids in my son’s vuggestue were gaining curiosity. I was becoming a regular figure in their lives. So much so, that they began to approach and ask questions, in the confidence that only a two-year-old can possess. “Hvem er du? Hvor er min mor? Hvad hedder du?”. They asked, then stared at me expectantly. My brain recognized these questions and yet I struggled. I couldn’t piece together a coherent response. This just added fuel to their curiosity fire. I found myself sweating and feeling outnumbered. Yes, by toddlers. I know! Go ahead and laugh.
The days blended into weeks where we initially attended together, then I slowly stepped away. Elongating the tether between mother and son. As I watched our son’s confidence grow alongside his understanding of Danish…I could feel my own confidence in our decisions solidifying. It wasn’t long before my son’s pedagogues informed me he was ready for the next phase: his first nap at vuggestue. I struggled with this transition, as it felt like such a precious time of day for us. Where he would snuggle in my arms, I would sing to him and watch him drift off to sleep. My heart was breaking. And yet, our son excelled beyond all of our expectations.
All in, it was six weeks of thoughtful and considerate immersion into life at vuggestue for both of us. The pedagogues’ patience, understanding and encouragement speaks volumes of their approach to both children and families. And for that, I am immensely grateful. I’m still met with toddler inquiries daily – be that at drop off or pick up, however these days I have a few more words & phrases in my arsenal. This once completely foreign place has become familiar, comforting and essential to our new life here.
Excellent again! I am able follow your steps in each article. If only I could write as well. Very interesting and easy to follow. We’ll have to try and pronounce those Danish words.
You’ll be able to compose a book , in time.
Thank you so much 🙂 I’m glad you enjoyed it. Let me know how it goes with your danish pronunciation. I suspect you’ll have an easier time since you already speaking German.