My french education

My french education is going light–speed. Today, I wrote an e-mail to my boy’s teacher at the French school. I should say we haven’t cross a word before, really. Me (Tarzan): no French; she (Jane or should I say, Janette): no Portuguese/Spanish/English. What an interface for a caring education!
So, today, I wrote an e-mail to her. Full of mistakes, I guess. Yes, it breaks my academic heart, but not so much to stop me from writing:

Chère Mxxxx Fxxxxx,

Je suis le père de Manuel
qui ne parle pas français (le père, pas le fils!)
ou plutôt je ne me souviens pas

Mais avec l'aide d'un bon Diccionnaire
et votre compréhension

Je vous souhaite
Bonnes vacances et bon repos
Je vous remercie pour vos efforts
pour enseigner à mon fils
l' écriture
les numéros
les histoires
la pensée...

la liberté d'être


Right. So this was my e-mail. I won’t be offended if she doesn’t write back. I know she won’t forget my little text. Ever. How do I know? I’m a teacher, too! And that is quite enough a reward.

Then I went to pick up my son from there, and we eat a good répas together: pizza (Bolognese and Margarita, delicious). We toasted with soup and felt incredibly happy. Then he, out of nowhere, told me he wanted to sing a song to me. And then I heard (and understood every word):

Petit papa,
C'est aujourd'hui ta fête,
Maman l'a dit
Quand tu n'étais pas là.
J'avais des fleurs,
Pour couronner ta tête,
Et des baisers,
Pour consoler ton coeur.
Petit papa, Petit papa.

He had forgotten to sing this song in fathers’ day. And he remembered spontaneously today. Clever Boy! Of course. Today, I was listening, for a change.

No need to say, I cried before him and embraced him and we were very happy. The pizza, in case I forgot to say, was delicious. It tasted better than ever.

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