It's a word I've used more in the last six months than juice box. A word I toss around casually yet alternatively makes me shudder and sing, and a word I've not given much more thought to than where, and how, and really? And then I had to translate, to try and explain to Balbina why Mary and Kate were stuffing the Senator and the President into backpacks, getting ready for school, on a Thursday afternoon in June at two in the afternoon, it's kindergarten.
My Spanish dictionary translated it as jardin de ninos. What? Really? Si Ally, escuela para ninas, jardin de ninos. The French say jardin d'enfant, and in English speaking countries we use the German kindergarten, which translates as children's garden, but of course I had never thought to translate it, the word being the school equivalent of Kleenex and Jello.
The word garden is also of German origin and generally pertains to a fertile place of cultivation (unless you are in England where garden is commonly used as Americans use yard). And being that we live in Chicago and not Devonshire, perhaps I should feel comforted that my children will soon spend their days in a garden, a place to be nourished and enriched, where they can learn and grow in a sunny and warm place.