Halloo there! We just got back from Alsace yesterday, which explains my absence from the blogosphere. And it’s tough settling back in. Petit Prince is weepy and my house is messy and we ran out of money and my nose is runny and I think it’s funny but it’s snot. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, just ignore me).
Anyway, if you want to learn a bit more about the region, you can read the history in my post from 2 years ago, which was the last time we were there. No historical visits this year. This time the main attraction was snow. Brr.
This week is not promising to be any better and we expect it to pour all week without even one ray of sunshine. And here we were enjoying a perfectly good drought up until now. I do hope things will have dried up by Saturday because we’re having Young Lady’s 8th birthday party and I was planning to lock everyone up in the garden and eat cake.
And since we’re having this chat (would you like some cake?) I am a bit miffed that my package hasn’t arrived yet for me to do my fabulous giveaway. I hope the order went through without a problem. But I haven’t forgotten about it (in case you were sitting on your hands in anticipation). Actually I was hoping I could butter you up through a giveaway so you would be willing to vote for me to win Voice of the Year for my little post over there on the side called, “When I Was a Princess.”
If you are indeed inspired to vote for me, you can do so here. You just need to create an account (it’s easy) if you don’t have one in order to vote. If I win I would get to speak in public and I would feel like Miss France and that would just complete me.
But whether or not I win, does anyone have a post they would like me to consider voting for as well? (I say consider, but pshaw, I’m easy). Please leave the link in the comments so other people can see it as well. Maybe you will win and then you can speak in public and wipe away tears of joy as you wave to your ardent listeners.
Okay I’m getting carried away. It’s all those chocolate easter bunnies’ fault. Their ears were just asking to be bitten off.
You may already know that “déjà vu” means “already seen” if you give its literal translation. I say this because “déjà” is quite a favorite word of Petit Prince these days. We hear it all the time. It’s totally like déjà vu each time he says it.
He’s turning out to be quite the character. He knows what he wants when he wants it.
It turns out that what he wants is to only wear sweat pants so we have to do laundry almost every day. He also wants to pick out his own clothes. He also wants to have several books to fall asleep with, which he drops on the floor with one loud “thunk” after another (and usually screams for replenishment a few times before falling asleep).
But any question of ours is usually met with a dé-jà spoken with slow exasperated emphasis
déjà fait pipi (I already went to the toilet)
déjà un pantalon (I’ve already chosen my clothes for the day)
déjà de l’eau (I’ve already had my fill of things to drink, thank you very much)
When Sir arrived home from a business trip and went in to kiss the children hello and goodnight, he was met with:
“non!” (hand wave dismissing him as he continued reading) “déjà bisous” (I’ve already had my kiss and tuck-in, he communicates, which we are led to understand precludes the need for a second parent to do the same, no matter how long they’ve been out of town and how happy they are to see you).
Most of the time he makes us laugh even when he marches around like a little tyrant giving everyone orders. It’s not like we want to induct him into the bratty hall of fame or anything, but we usually have to control our laughter to see him acting so indignant and long-suffering over issues such as whether or not it’s time for another potty break.
He likes to sing the latest pop songs at the top of his lungs, his words as little distinguishable as the singer’s. He likes to report back what people said, “il a dit …” (he said) as a way of communicating and participating. Once he asked Sir if they could watch cartoons in the morning and Sir, still desperate for sleep, barely responded with a “mmmmm.”
Petit Prince runs back delightedly and yells to his siblings, “il a dit ‘mmmmm!’ ” which was hilarious to us, but I’m afraid the humor might be lost in the translation.
Just tonight after a whirlwind trip to Alsace, only to be plunged back into school with Sir already on another business trip in NY, all we’ve had since school was over is tears. After putting him to bed repeatedly, he kept crying and getting up again. I tried ignoring it but he finally wailed at the foot of the stairs, “veux manger; veux manger.” (want eat; want eat).
I walked downstairs irritated until I saw him with his pajamas on, Daddy’s boots on his feet, sitting on the floor crying. The boots softened my heart of stone (a little, a very little) and I said, “you want to eat?” He nodded his head, so I held his hand and brought him upstairs and pulled out the same peas, ham and rice that he had scorned earlier. He shook his head no and all my irritation flooded back.
I dragged him back downstairs, only to be corrected by my other children. Apparently he was saying, “veux moucher” (want to blow my nose) which sounds an awful lot like “manger” when your nose is stuffed up from crying. Then he said that he wants his daddy.
And it has gone on and on because he keeps crying and then wants me to come and wipe his nose (which would stop running if he stopped crying … obviously).
I do know this post is all over the place (perfectly depicting my current state of mind). But regarding Petit Prince, I keep thinking if this is the character we’re met with now, perhaps I should worry about his teenage years. The kid has even cut himself shaving already as if he couldn’t wait to start that stage of life! (Think Daddy’s razor lying around and soft three-year old pudgy baby skin. Not a pretty picture).
But somehow I assume he is going to be just fine, iron will and all.
A few days ago, this was the conversation he had with his father (translated of course):
Petit Prince: You’re my bunny.
Sir: “I’m your little bunny?”
Petit Prince: “Oui. You are my little bunny.”
(and then a pause)
Petit Prince: “And I’m your little carrot.”
Something tells me where kids are concerned, there is very little that is “déjà vu.”