I’m LOVING my children speaking French. Just LOVE it.
Don’t love it so much when the ‘correct’ my French, and their ‘correction’ veers into mockery. But hey, just another opportunity to guide them towards being better, more tolerant and polite, even diplomatic, human beings though, eh?!
Who lives next door?
About six months ago we were hanging out with one of Miss 8’s friends, who’s English but was born and bred here. At one point she was talking about where they live and said:
“Our voisins… our…. um… what do we call the people who live next to you?”
I thought it was interesting that in fact her French was better than her English.
Any old Romans?
So this week, when Miss 10 came home and asked:
“Mummy, have we got any old romans? Because I need to take one to school…” aside from finding it hilarious:
“Yes, darling, take the annoying one who sits there all day in that raggedy old toga…. Also I could do without those Roman ladies who come by all the time selling their annoying clay pots…” Miss 10 rolls her eyes.
Aside from that, my heart swelled a little with pride. My little immersion baby, already forgetting her English. (BTW what she needed was an old book, an old ‘roman’ – old story we’d already read and didn’t need any more. It was for a paper folding project…)
Now this one is a book worm and a sponge, and I’m not concerned at all that she’s forgetting her English. But it was a lovely moment when I realised that, for her, French is now generally easy. Not all of it, but general, every day it.
The other week I was talking about the benefits of French versus Latin at school, and we seem to be back on the Romans again… funny!
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