Yesterday I was all about posting about the sun, the sea, the sand and gloating that the spud and I had sat happily on the beach for an hour and came away with, dare I say it, a small amount of colour...
But one must not tempt fate I have learned and, having composed this pean to Biarritz in my head we awoke this morning to the weather we were actually promised by the outlaws, ie, dreary grey, cold and threatening rain or snow or something equally similar to the weather in London at the moment.
It's probably a good thing this, not only will it make returning to that sceptered isle slightly more palatable, it also means that we're not fumbling around in our wardrobes trying to find something that is both summery and voluminous enough to cover up our drifts of pale winter flab.
Les Biarrots, of course, are already sporting sleek, tanned musculature, possibly because they've not fully lost the tan they got every year since they were born, possibly because they've already been to the salon for a spray-down; but there they were, lined up gamely on blankets watching each other throw rugby balls and lie about looking fashionable and French.
We've entered another new phase I noted this morning. Now that the spud is beginning to show signs of wanting to talk (having gaily repeated 'coquillage' for his beaming grandfather yesterday... has he said 'Mummy' yet?...oh but I digress...) communication in this household is becoming confusing. Normally if the frog says to our son 'What has Mummy fed you' I'm supposed to answer 'it's banana'. If I say to him 'what on earth has your Father dressed you in?', the Frog is supposed to walk in looking all aggrieved and claim that they were All The Clothes He Could Find. We communicate quite a lot like that: 'Where are your shoes?'... 'That's a dirty face!', 'What do you think Daddy's done with your nappy bag?' - all these and more we ask each other through the medium of our son. Today however I heard the frog say 'What have you got in your mouth' so I called out 'it's just a bit of a cough drop for his throat' where-upon he replied 'I was asking him, not you'. That shut me up. How am I supposed to know when the frog is talking to me now?
Right now our little bundle of curls is fast asleep after a Very Large morning spent in the playground and entertaining his grandparents. On the beach yesterday he was not quite as brave as he is in the comfort of the playground and for the first time since before he could crawl he sat still for an hour playing quietly with a stick and pointing at the rugby balls as they came flying towards us, a feat which makes me want to transplant the sea to the chaos of our livingroom for a moment of peace.
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13 comments:
I didn't realize how much my hubby and I communicated via our son until I read this! Oi. The kid probably thought that we'd lost our minds....
Sounds like you had fun, Shug.
(Yes, I say "Shug" a lot. What can I say - I'm Southern.)
Sceptered. Masculature. Coquillage. Good Lord, I need an interpreter to understand this post, or a dictionary. When I was in France, and it was my big chance to see the Eiffel Tower, it was freezing cold, foggy, and rainy. I'm still mad about that.
Oh yeah. We tried this too. You have to ease into the communicating directly to each other, otherwise it's too jarring. Keep cryptonite handy.
Sun or no, it sounds lovely. My chronic sore throat could use a change of scenery.
Oh oh, forgot to ask! Do you take the train?
Coquillage??? Hey that means he's said my name BEFORE his Uncle Hoto's!! Right??
Sacre bleu! Ah, mon dieu, ceci ne peut pas être vrai. Non, non, non ...
Anna K - great pic! How does it happen? Glad we're not the only ones talking like this. God knows what our kids think!
Jen - bummer... I once travelled from Canada to the UK and France for three months and every single major tourist attraction was under scaffolding or under repair and not visitable. It was my first ever major trip. I had fun anyway but... sympathy.
Jennie - oh not you too, we have a terrible throat and chest thingy too... where do you get your cryptonite? The Frog and I need help! Oh, and we fly from London to Biarritz, train would take too long.
Shell - Why YES, that's EXACTLY what that means - aHAHAHA!! I hadn't read this before your email, you have just made me laugh A LOT.
Hoty - Sacre too bad, bro!!!
Wait now comes the part where you begin calling The Frog Daddy or Pere or Papa or whatever like that was his name or he was your Daddy or whatever so's the Spud will know who you is talkin' about/to/for. It'll become so ingrained you'll do it when the Spud isn't even there! I used to know the Mench's first name...............think it begins with a J.
Irregardless of the weather, a getaway to France sounds fabulous to me. One of the many reasons I enjoy your blog is because of the European lifestyle that you live. Your life happens in a place I've only seen in pictures and on TV.
Oh this post made me laugh! The little showoff, spouting 'coquillage'! You'll hear him say 'Mummy' once he has learnt how to say 'I love you' immediatly preceeding it...honest he is just biding his time in order to obtain maximum effect.
OK. Yeah, Hubby and I do this all the time...with the communicating back and forth. That is sooo funny....
It isn't funny when it starts going "Why is your mommy so crazy?" and "Why doesn't your daddy just shut up or mommy will run over him with the car?"
Not that we would do this. Or Anything.
Ahem....
You'll know when the Frog is talking to you, everything will have to be spelled so the little Spud doesn't know what's being said. But of course, we need to be mind readers and know exactly everything at the same time...unless it's their idea, of course! Have a good time with your outlaws...gosh you're brave!
Everything in life changes when the spuds come along...the menu, the clothing, and, yes, the vocab...why didn't someone warn us?!?! :o)
Have a fun time letting the outlaws spoil the little spudster.
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