Remembering French

Alexander learned French as a pre-schooler. His father learned French as an adult. As anyone knows, who has learned a second language as an adult, you are at the mercy of any kid who happens to hear you speak. And you know that me won't talk pretty one day. At least the kid won't think so.

Alexander was four when he accompanied his father to a patisserie near their apartment in Paris. When they arrived back home with three pastries, Alexander announced to his parents, in French, that he would never go with Papa to shop, unless Papa would promise to buy two or four of everything. He went on to explain that Papa had told the man at the shop, in French, "I want you [toi]," instead of, "I want three [trois]."

Alexander reported, "And the shop owner's eyes got very big!"

Note: Alexander, my grandson, is a teenager now and is even more disdainful of the French spoken by his American relatives.

Also note: the above vintage, French Madeleines box was a gift from a former brother-in-law; unfortunately he had little self-control and ate the contents before he got back from France with my gift.