not noticed As the Wombi, your new winter jacket hung on the hook, it was bitter cold, and five before the half. Half the tram drove off, in the Wombi was to sit, in a timely manner in the school to arrive.
Christiane Tauzher: The Pubertäterin
Since puberty, our daughter, the mosquito, shortly after her 13. Birthday in your violence, we keep the Windows closed so the neighbors call the police. The Pubertäterin is not loud and unpredictable, when she sleeps, just like a Wombat, or eat – what you do for luck often.
The stories I tell – a journalist, 41, from Vienna, married to Olaf, a 46 – here, not act, of course, the Pubertäterin in my family. No. They come from my thriving imagination or come from other families. There, it is arg in the other families … 😉
“I hung the jacket for sure, yesterday, there,” said Wombi, and pointed to the empty hook on the coat rack, “someone must have taken away.” The variant that Olaf had mistakenly put on her tailored jacket with pink lining, found the Wombi “very likely”. “Maybe he had his contact lenses in the eyes.” To fit in Wombis jacket, had shrink, the Olaf on the night and color blind. Yes, he sees without lenses a bit bad, but two diopters make no José Feliciano from him.
Four and a half.
“The Mini has taken the jacket!”, the Wombi said, “he has brought a kitchen chair into the hallway to get to her.”
“And what should he have wanted with your jacket?”, I asked, “your brother is four and wants to put on his own jacket, although the Minions are on it.”
“He wanted to snuggle into it like a sleeping bag,” said Wombi, “do small children like that.” As if she had a spark of an idea of what young children like and what is not. For the Mini was it that interested you about as much as for tapestry, embroidery. “He hates sleeping bags,” I said, “even as a Baby, he wanted to be in any of you.” The Wombi shrugged his shoulders.
before the half.
Maybe in the car?
“did You want to borrow your jacket,” she remembered suddenly, “maybe you took off in the car and is now on the passenger seat.” I could not remember to have expressed a desire to want the jacket with the pink lining borrow. Apart from that, I would not come for two minus temperature degrees outside, the idea of me in the car to take off.
and a Half.
C. Tauzher: The Pubertäterin boots Rather go naked than: Why is the daughter in the Winter goes down without
“You must go now,” I said and opened the front door. The icy Wind missed us both a slap in the face. I closed the door again. “The jacket was stolen!”, the Wombi with a shrill voice said. “Who Betkanyon makes the trouble to break in and then takes only a jacket?”, I asked. “Someone who is cold and has good taste,” replied the Wombi. An idea came to her suddenly: “Toni (our hunting dog, editor’s note.) the jacket has ripped from the hooks, ran to the garden, has been torn to pieces and then buried.” The Wombi nodded, to give the story a believable feel. Toni moves in the minus degrees only under the threat of food deprivation, out of the house. Her coat is thin and glossy like a silky robe. Nothing but a fresh ham leg and a very elegant fragrant male, would induce them to turn in the cold weather, a round in the garden. “This is bullshit,” I said.
Two and a half.
“Because of you I’m now late for school”, echauffierte the Wombi. I immediately felt bad about ascend, and gave her a short coat of mine, put them on refused. “Please, how old is the part?” she asked. Critical I looked “the part” that I had bought two weeks ago in a Boutique at full price. “Uh,” I said, “not so old, I hope.”
“don’t I draw something, in any case,” said Wombi, looking over the wardrobe and pulled out a jacket of her father by the coat hooks.
“If he’s borrowing my jacket, I need to take one of him.” With these words, she would go out in the cold. The oversized jacket looked up at her from the packaging material consists of a number of air pillows.
and More of Christiane Tauzher
“I’ll say it now for the very last Time! Stories from the nearly perfect life of a mother”, by Christiane Tauzher, Goldegg Verlag, 14,95 Euro
Wombis jacket remained for three days, disappeared, and the Wombi wasted no more thoughts of you. Me, it was insane, and I was looking for in every free Minute. Even in the garden. Toni looked on with pity from the glass door as I was brushing himself off with the snow shovel in the frozen ground.
On day three of the Olaf down rose in the cellar to get firewood. And he found the jacket together geknäuelt on the box with the Shoe Polish stuff. In addition, of chocolate piled up paper, and empty Rubber bags.
“Look what I found in the basement,” said Olaf, and came with the jacket pride as a hunting trophy into the living room, in the Wombi was in front of the TV.
“It was just a burglar,” she said without looking away from the Film, “but no one believed me here.”
