A declaration of love to all the Mrs Brauns of this world

Mrs Braun was small and round. Her hair was grey and tied into a small bun. Mrs Braun had no children. I don't even remember whether she was in a relationship.
In my memory she has a nun-like quality, but in any case she was surrounded by an aura of saintliness. I loved her dearly and deeply. She was patience personified. She never let out a sigh because I dawdled on the way or was homesick for my mum.
Mrs Braun loved to cook. We children were allowed to eat lunch at the kindergarten at regular intervals. There were always lots of trans fats in the form of fish fingers, not a little sugar in the form of chocolate pudding and mayonnaise. Cucumber was only served as a garnish. This explains, at least in part, why we were so devoted to Mrs Braun. If you were tired afterwards, you were allowed to lie down for a short while on the jeans-blue, soft mats, which smelled nothing like chalk, linoleum and cleaning agents.

When I accompanied my youngest, I sometimes felt the urge to lie down for a moment in this cosy corner.

My sons' nursery school also has such beds. They are green, pink and yellow, with cushions and soft toys and a canopy over them. When I took my youngest there, I sometimes felt the urge to lie down for a while in this cosy corner.
I then imagined myself lying there as the DaZ teacher, who had just sewn a soft toy penguin with the children, sat down with me and told me a story that only she knew. Oh, how cosy! That's how nice it is in my sons' Chindsgi. And then there's Mrs Braun. She has a different name, of course, and is younger, prettier and more worldly than my kindergarten teacher ever was. But Mrs Braun 2.0 is also gentleness personified.

My children were often tired in the first year of kindergarten, ready for noodles from Thursday onwards and not always in the best of moods. She overlooked this. One of my boys didn't want to sing along in the circle; she didn't mind. Instead, she noticed that the boy - actually! - likes to tidy up and draw. So my son was appointed tidy-up boss - which he thought was great, of course, because it meant he could instruct the other children on what needed tidying up.
Mrs Braun 2.0 must have printed out 5000 police pictures, vehicle pictures and dog pictures for my sons. She does gymnastics, takes the children into the forest, makes leaf crowns, bakes cookies at Christmas and invented the hot hamburger - a culinary hybrid of hamburger and hot dog, with eyes made of sausage wheels and pupils made of chocolate.

On days when one appointment follows the next and I'm already wishing at lunchtime that the evening would come soon, I mentally beam myself into the sandstone cave, onto the horse-drawn carriage or into the motorboat, stops on Mrs Braun 2.0's kindergarten trips. I think she comes right after Globi, Yoda and Urmel in my children's universe.
The other day my youngest said: «Mum, my cuddly toys like me best, then you and then dad.» I'm sure Mrs Brown 2.0 comes fourth. If it's her birthday, he draws her a picture. It has to be a card from the holidays, preferably from Paris, her favourite city. The stone discovered at the edge of the forest goes to her.

The Mrs Brauns give the feeling of being unconditionally accepted and loved.

Which I can well understand. She takes the children as they are. She sees them as wonderful and complete beings, which they already are at the age of four. The feeling of being unconditionally accepted and loved is nurtured in all Mrs Brauns of this world.

Read more about the time in the «Chindsgi»:

• How to get your child off to a good start in «Chindsgi»: We'll tell you how you can support your child.

• Mrs Stamm, when is a child ready for kindergarten? And what can parents do to ensure that their son or daughter feels comfortable at kindergarten?

• «I learnt the important things in kindergarten!» says our columnist and dad-of-two Mikael Krogerus.