An Irishman’s Diary on why some Germans need to find their inner child

There I was in a local cafe, pretending not to watch but fascinated all the same by the goings-on at the next table. It was a children’s birthday party or, more accurately, a child’s birthday party.

A small boy, perhaps five, was being watched intensely by a group of adults: two people I presumed were his parents and four groups of senior citizens – grandparents of various degrees. Each group was vying for the child’s attention and affection with presents. The child opened one gift after another, studied each one briefly, then tossed it aside and onto the next.

Around the inner circle of adoration, the outer circle was one of vicious disapproval. Here, in one setting, you could learn a lot about modern family life in Germany.

First: the rise of so-called patchwork families, where partners bring children from different relationships under one roof. Second: figures show this has been a boon for toy sales, with children now getting presents from more than the traditional two sets of grandparents.

Interestingly, rising toy sales are in spite of a continued drop in Germany’s birth rate.

Sometimes I wonder if Germany’s amazing, unstoppable birthrate drop is perhaps linked to another feature of life I see on display in the cafe: a widespread impatience, even social incompetence, when it comes to dealing with others’ children in public.

You could power a small German town from the electric tension generated whenever a parent brings a child into a cafe, train carriage or church. Parents, often sleep-deprived creatures who just need a helping hand or a door held open, are instead confronted with the pitiless reality of Germany's rules-based society: nein, toilets are for customers only; nein, you can't sit there with your child without buying something; ach, why can't you stop the child crying?

That's what makes it so therapeutic to read Mama Amelie and the Puppy Chaos by Alva O'Dea.

The Irishwoman, at home in the pretty town of Lüneburg, has written a warm-hearted children’s book with a story that rhymes in both German and English. It comes to life with inviting illustrations by Katharina Kubisch and has a subtle but important message.

The story book takes us through a day in the life of exhausted mama dog Amelie and her 10 puppies. We learn on page one that Amelie is all alone in bathing, feeding, cooking and cleaning – and enlists friends to get through the day: Eddy the dreadlocked donkey and Grandpa Hare with the double-chin.

Eddy takes the children to the supermarket – every adult’s nightmare whether with one or 10 children – and, inevitably, chaos ensues.

As yoghurt-splashed customers flee down the aisles an angry rhinoceros, the market’s manager, shouts at the puppies.

Only when Eddie the donkey intervenes to extract an apology from the terrified pups does the rhino relent, saying: “Every Mama needs a helping hand. Let’s tell Amelie we understand.”

Whenever Alva O’Dea reads from her book in public this, she says, is the moment when her German audiences start to sniffle. Single parents in particular have all had Amelie moments. They all know the condemnatory glares from strangers when their children act up.

Indeed one common reason you hear for why many Irish emigrants, in Germany or elsewhere, raise their children at home in Ireland is because living abroad has shown them how much better, relatively speaking, most Irish people are with children – their own and others’.

Considering the economic chill and the disgrace of Irish childcare – both quality and cost – you might say that Irish people love children so much they have them in spite of, not because of, the government.

Here in Germany it’s the opposite: neither subsidised, first-rate childcare nor a year’s paid leave has jolted the birthrate from decline. Irish mammies are experts at multitasking, many would-be German parents are experts at tweaking a spreadsheet to justify not having another child whatever the economic climate, like an employer refusing a union’s pay demands in upturns and down.

Two thirds of Germans quizzed in a recent survey by Stern magazine said they found children too expensive. Perhaps there's a gap in the market here for Aldi and Lidl? Or perhaps the financial question is shot through with fear of Germans' icy stares if they have a child, or a second one.

As with the recent referendum outcome on marriage marriage, many Irish have a relaxed, pragmatic approach to families of all kinds. An inherent sense of fairness, patience and humour prevails towards parents with their children, even as the concept of family itself has changed radically. Forget Germany, Amelie, and take your pups to Ireland: your friendly, local Supervalu awaits.