Marmot: Mission 0001
Today was a very busy, though rather odd, day.
Started with Dr. B sick enough to agree quickly when I said, "You're staying home." The voice he agreed with was an octave below normal, so I know he really needed to. I called the doctor and got him an afternoon appointment, with the caution that I couldn't go with him because I had the girls from noon on. (*Note: I always call the doctor/dentist--even in the US in English. It's kind of a phobia for him.) He seemed OK with this, and called after his appointment to tell me that everything went fine, and he made himself understood, and she understood him, he got ordonnances and went to the pharmacy and they filled them for him and he was now heavily medicated. My worries were gone, so I faced the day with the girls.
After our usual lasagne lunch with the music teacher, I began our first English lessons with each of the girls, while the other was playing and singing to Emanuelle in the other room. It went very well, and C was delighted that she could make herself understood with simple phrases like introducing herself, talking about the weather, and naming food. She asked that from now on we have "English Snack", so our homemade apple crumble was presided over en englais. P did fairly well, but when she had run out of English words, she just started making stuff up and giggling. Hey, she's 8. It's to be expected.
They played for the rest of the afternoon, and as it got dark, wanted to go down to the courtyard to play. The cold snap has hit Paris, with a low of 25 degrees Fahrenheit, but I agreed as long as they let me take a flashlight so I could read while they played. (The North Dakotan in me scoffs at 25 degrees, but on concrete, sitting, in the dark, reading--yeah. It's pretty chilly.)
They were very busy, and I didn't quite know what they were doing. It was fun, judging by their laughter. Somehow it involved a shoe box with holes cut into it, another flashlight, some rubber bands, 2 peluches (stuffed animals) and some sort of stretchy pink stringy stuff.
"What are you playing? Espionage?"
"No!!! She's not a mouse. She's a Marmot!"
"Oh. A marmot. Of course. And what's that one?"
"A singe. Monkey! Mun-kee, mun-kee!" (C knew this word in English, so repeated it several times while giggling and tossing the marmot in the air.)
"OK, Marmot and Monkey Spies. It's a baboon, right?"
"Yes. It's a baboon. But no, it's not Marmot and Monkey Spies. It's Mission: zero- zero- ONE!"
Well, Mission 001 seemed to also involve my gloves, scarf and ear-warmer (which they traded for theirs so I wouldn't get cold). Unfortunately, P's gloves are sized for 8-year old hands, so they didn't fit me very well. I continued to read my book, stomping my feet on the concrete to keep them warm, and curling my fingers into my palm so they would fit in the teeny, tiny gloves.
"Can we have your shoes?"
(Giggle giggle giggle.)
A few minutes later...
"How about your socks?"
(GIGGLE GIGGLE giggle giggle.)
P then decided to give me back my gloves, and tripped and fell, landing somehow flat on her back. She began to giggle even harder. Her sister tried to pick her up, laughing, and couldn't, and then she fell down, too, and then they were both giggling so hard their cheeks were bright pink.
Maybe the cold numbed the sense out of them. Who knows.
They sure had fun, though.