30. Leçon du jour
'On est quel jour aujourd'hui?'
'Tuesday.'
'En français. On fait du français maintenant.'
'Mardi.'
'Très bien!' I felt I was being over enthusiastic. He was 7 years old after all. If he could for one second sense that I was being over enthusiastic he would send me packing.
'Allez, on écrit la date: mar ... di ... quatre ...'
He was chewing the end of his pencil and stretching his neck to look out of the window. I could see why. The next door neighbours were zooming around on their bicycles. I was inwardly cursing their parents. Could they not keep their own kids inside until I was done?
'Can I go and play?'
'Oui. Quand tu auras fini ce travail de français. Mais bon, là, ça fait déjà dix minutes qu'on est sur la date alors ... Bon, tu écris la date s'il te plaît'
I got up, went to the window, then to the kitchen. Too early for wine, I'd have to settle for an other coffee. I had 30 minutes alone with him to get this French lesson done. I went back. I looked at his page. Blank.
'Tu écris la date. Mardi 4 décembre. Allez.'
'Pourquoi?'
'Parce que c'est comme ca.'
'Pourquoi c'est comme ça?'
Do not sigh. Do not show any signs that you are losing patience. Sip your coffee.
'Parce que c'est ton cahier. Un cahier ça se tient correctement, c'est pour être organisé ...' We'd been through this before but I was none the wiser for it. I sighed inwardly. Why was my son so difficult to handle?
He looked out the window again. The next door boys had gone, they were probably scared of me. He turned back to his book. Yes!
'Alors ça sert à rien. Je veux pas.'
'Ah non! Allez on arrête de discuter, tu écris cette date et puis c'est tout.'
I took the pen and wrote: mar
'Vas-y maman!'
'Non! C'est à toi d'écrire en français.'
'Mais je sais faire la date. J'ai déjà fait. Regarde.'
And he turned the pages back until he found a 'mardi'.
'Tu vois? J'ai déjà fait, là!' He pointed with his finger right under the word mardi just in case I missed it.
I looked at the time. 15 minutes to go. I thought maybe I could get stickers made with the date. Maybe he'd like sticking them.
'Bon, en attendant tu écris mardi 4 décembre sinon tu fais pas de vélo.'
He started howling.
'It's not fair. Jake and Ben they are doing bicycle and I can't.' More howling. 'Their mummy is nice. You just make me work all the time.' Howling gets louder for effect. 'They don't even do French.'
'No, they don't. They are not French. They are English. You are French. One day, soon, we will go back to France and you will have to go to French school.' I was losing it, I could feel it.
'And you won't even be able to write the date! So please, write the date, now, then you can go and play.'
20 minutes! 20 minutes to write the date! Ok in French but still ... and I was not even asking for the 4 to be 'quatre'.
OK. Positive thinking. It works they say. So, stupidly, I said:
'Good! You see, it's easy.' Then I remembered I wrote 'mardi'.
He looked at me. I could see in his eyes that he thought he had won this battle.
'You know what? You don't want to learn French. OK! Fine! Good! I slammed the book shut. I shoved it inside the folder. I stormed outside leaving the front door open behind me.
'You're watching? Watch this! Do you want me to do this? Because that's what's going to happen!'
I had opened the big outside bin and was holding the folder above it, ready to drop it in.
'You can put it in the bin. I don't want to learn French anyway.' He went inside and closed the door behind him. I was furious.
I had no choice. I dropped the folder in the bin. Went back in and said.
'OK, fine, go and play now! But remember you will remain illiterate in French, your mother's language!'
He was already on his little red bike, shouting:
'Jake! Wait! I've finished my French!'
A glass of wine would help me swallow that one! How cheeky and infuriating could he get!
Later on that night, once he was asleep in bed, I crept outside and retrieved the folder from the bin hoping no one was out there walking a dog or taking a stroll. I just could not bring myself to chuck this precious folder away. I've still got it somewhere!
'Tuesday.'
'En français. On fait du français maintenant.'
'Mardi.'
'Très bien!' I felt I was being over enthusiastic. He was 7 years old after all. If he could for one second sense that I was being over enthusiastic he would send me packing.
'Allez, on écrit la date: mar ... di ... quatre ...'
He was chewing the end of his pencil and stretching his neck to look out of the window. I could see why. The next door neighbours were zooming around on their bicycles. I was inwardly cursing their parents. Could they not keep their own kids inside until I was done?
'Can I go and play?'
'Oui. Quand tu auras fini ce travail de français. Mais bon, là, ça fait déjà dix minutes qu'on est sur la date alors ... Bon, tu écris la date s'il te plaît'
I got up, went to the window, then to the kitchen. Too early for wine, I'd have to settle for an other coffee. I had 30 minutes alone with him to get this French lesson done. I went back. I looked at his page. Blank.
'Tu écris la date. Mardi 4 décembre. Allez.'
'Pourquoi?'
'Parce que c'est comme ca.'
'Pourquoi c'est comme ça?'
Do not sigh. Do not show any signs that you are losing patience. Sip your coffee.
'Parce que c'est ton cahier. Un cahier ça se tient correctement, c'est pour être organisé ...' We'd been through this before but I was none the wiser for it. I sighed inwardly. Why was my son so difficult to handle?
He looked out the window again. The next door boys had gone, they were probably scared of me. He turned back to his book. Yes!
'Alors ça sert à rien. Je veux pas.'
'Ah non! Allez on arrête de discuter, tu écris cette date et puis c'est tout.'
I took the pen and wrote: mar
'Vas-y maman!'
'Non! C'est à toi d'écrire en français.'
'Mais je sais faire la date. J'ai déjà fait. Regarde.'
And he turned the pages back until he found a 'mardi'.
'Tu vois? J'ai déjà fait, là!' He pointed with his finger right under the word mardi just in case I missed it.
I looked at the time. 15 minutes to go. I thought maybe I could get stickers made with the date. Maybe he'd like sticking them.
'Bon, en attendant tu écris mardi 4 décembre sinon tu fais pas de vélo.'
He started howling.
'It's not fair. Jake and Ben they are doing bicycle and I can't.' More howling. 'Their mummy is nice. You just make me work all the time.' Howling gets louder for effect. 'They don't even do French.'
'No, they don't. They are not French. They are English. You are French. One day, soon, we will go back to France and you will have to go to French school.' I was losing it, I could feel it.
'And you won't even be able to write the date! So please, write the date, now, then you can go and play.'
20 minutes! 20 minutes to write the date! Ok in French but still ... and I was not even asking for the 4 to be 'quatre'.
OK. Positive thinking. It works they say. So, stupidly, I said:
'Good! You see, it's easy.' Then I remembered I wrote 'mardi'.
He looked at me. I could see in his eyes that he thought he had won this battle.
'You know what? You don't want to learn French. OK! Fine! Good! I slammed the book shut. I shoved it inside the folder. I stormed outside leaving the front door open behind me.
'You're watching? Watch this! Do you want me to do this? Because that's what's going to happen!'
I had opened the big outside bin and was holding the folder above it, ready to drop it in.
'You can put it in the bin. I don't want to learn French anyway.' He went inside and closed the door behind him. I was furious.
I had no choice. I dropped the folder in the bin. Went back in and said.
'OK, fine, go and play now! But remember you will remain illiterate in French, your mother's language!'
He was already on his little red bike, shouting:
'Jake! Wait! I've finished my French!'
A glass of wine would help me swallow that one! How cheeky and infuriating could he get!
Later on that night, once he was asleep in bed, I crept outside and retrieved the folder from the bin hoping no one was out there walking a dog or taking a stroll. I just could not bring myself to chuck this precious folder away. I've still got it somewhere!
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