I just want to be who I am

that astounding bit of insight was offered up by Max over his breakfast egg. The whole discussion started because of Uli's and my confusion as to which of the different personae he has assumed over the last few weeks he was today. Max is in a loose succession either: a boy, a baby-dragon, a policman, or a baby-bird althought the baby-bird has gone out of style as of recent. As he went to bed as a baby-dragon last night I just assumed he would wake up as a baby-dragon this morning but I was mistaken (stupid grown-up mistake) as one can certainly go to bed a baby-dragon and rise to be a policeman. Policeman is his favorite incarnation right now, there is lots of police around here patrolling the streets and piazzas and they all have - gasp - pistols, walkie-talkies and handcuffs. So now Max wants to be a policeman and patrols the streets with the gas-oven lighter in his pockets pretending it is a pistol. He will use it to shoot in the air if a "bad guy" does something bad and that will stop the villain in his tracks. Or so the story goes.
So when I addressed him as my baby-dragon this morning he was very put out and said that he certainly was a policeman today and would be for the entire day and moreover he just wanted to be who he is. Uli and I looked at each other, shrugging our shoulders. What can one really say to such deep insight other than: "well, you know, you got a point there, Mr. Policeman".
So Policeman Max patrolled Prato today and ensured the safety of its inhabitants with his oven-lighter plus a ripped off bike stand he found by the cathedral. Prato is - and nobody seems to know that including us until yesterday - the second biggest city of Tuscany. Its close to Firenze which made it a good place to visit on our almost last day here. The few things I found about it on the web seemed pleasant enough, another of those C-list celebrity cities of Tuscany that we have been visiting. And so it was: a largish town with many industrialized suburbs (in fact it is the center of the Italian textil industry - I didn't even know that something resembling a textil industry still existed outside of China, Vietnam and a few other Asian countries) and a calm, nice but unspectecular "centro storico". A fortezza without canons, a number of typical churches - black and white stripes like the Duomo in Firenze and many other famos churces all over Tuscany and Umbria - there would have been some shopping opportunities without the policeman but so be it. One can always look at the bright side: money saved!
The nice thing about Prato was that it is definitely non-touristy. We heard a bit of German and English but that was it. No tour groups, no drowning out of the Italian language by 50 other idioms.

We did our usual back-by-three-for-the-nap routine and afterwards Max and I went to "our park" to kick the ball around. Thankfully they had cleaned it up considerably since the last time I was there and due to the nice weather the whole little park was happening. On this occasion I realized that Uli had seen fit - during the only time he visited the park with Max - to tell our not-even-four-years-old about Savanarola and his little hobby of burning books. I am all for early education but that seemed a little advanced for the mind of four year old - at least in my humble opinion. So we spent some time kicking the half-limp ball around we found during our second visit and had taken home and a lot discussing why angry and bad-tempered men would burn books.
But the news of the day came from Konstanz. After some back and forth it seems like Max will be able - for three weeks - to attend the Kindergarten Antonia, the daughter of my friend Debbie, is attending. To say I am deliriously happy is a vast understatement. It will really do him a lot of good to hang out with kids for some time and not discuss book-buring-right-wing-medieval-basket-cases and do comparative linguistics in the bus (in Italian it is Uscita, in German we say Ausgang, Nelly dice salida and Greisley says exit) - my head is spinning form it and so is his which explains constructions like "uscita Not" (Notausgang = emergency exit) an Italian-German mixture he recently came up with.
One last day and I still have all the packing to do (well almost and it really is a day and a half). I am looking forward to Konstanz, it will be more relaxed and easier and I will have the opportunity to see dear old friends. Hopefully Sandy will be able to make it over for from the Bay Area for a good week - that would be fun. But I am also bracing myself for the inevitable "where is home?" "Do I still belong here, or do I belong where I am living or do I not belong anyway anymore and if so, is that a problem of not?" discussion that will be going on in my mind 24/7. There will be more about that most fundamental of all expat discussions later - I am sure of it.