Lorfa heefer

I was in the bathroom when the door opened abruptly. She came in, shut it, and climbed on top of her potty chair, mumbling.

"What was that, honey?"

"Loofah hoopah."

"What?"

"Loafah hayfa."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Can you look at me and say it really clearly?"

"Loffie Hoofar!" she shouted.

This went on for a while. Eventually, she settled on a pronunciation.

"Lorfa Heefer! Yeah. Lorfa Heefer."

"OK, Lorfa Heefer*. What does it mean?"

She stopped spinning in a circle, hand on the wall, and looked at me, rather exasperated, and shook her head.

"Mommy, It's complicated."

Next week, she'll begin my Astrophysics lessons.





*We eventually worked out that "Lorfa Heefer" means La Tour Eiffel, the Eiffel Tower.

Learning French

We are getting ready for our first trip as a family of 3 back to France, since we left our temporary home. I am excited, nervous, and so looking forward to seeing friends, eating things I can't find here, and sharing my beloved Paris with my daughter. There are things I never did while I was there (can you believe I went to the Louvre at least 5 times and never saw the Venus de Milo? Not that I'm going to this time. But I really can't believe I missed it.) I want to go to Fontainebleau, perhaps the Picasso museum and the Rodin museum, eat a baguette rillettes et cornichons (drool...), pick up some lovely things at the market like the special butter, madeleines, and some really stinky cheeses, and walk up la rue Mouffetard for some gelato and people-watching.

Rowan has been exposed to some french her whole life, but we haven't raised her bilingual. Neither of us is a native speaker, so I guess we just don't want to do it wrong, though we'd probably be OK. I have been playing french music for her, speaking to her some, and she has been read french stories since she was very small.

Now, as we're getting ready, I'm trying to introduce a little more into our daily routine. The other day, I decided to teach her to faire la bise. I told her we would need it when we went to see Aimee.

"Aimee? Aimee? AIMEEEEEE???" she squealed. (She loves Aimee.)

We practiced la bise, bisous, and she loved planting kisses on my cheeks. A friend came over for a play date, and she gave her mother bisous before they left.

Then last night, I was looking at Aimee's flickr page, and there was a new photo of her, taken by her son Max, who turned 2 yesterday.

Rowan saw it, smiled and said, "Aimee!!!!" and leaned in. My laptop screen has now been bised.

Preschool TV Fashion in France

Rowan's recently gotten into watching TV. I've set up her own playlist on the remote, and we watch Sesame Street (also free On Demand, which I love), Sprout, Noggin, and even a little SpongeBob. Her attention span is short, but so are the clips on the shows, and she loves the colors and music, often clapping along (and actually, her steady beat is already pretty good.) She dances with the television, shaking her tush and rocking back and forth from foot to foot, spinning in a circle, waving her arms and waggling her head back and forth.

A very dear friend suggested a french show her son loves, so we started watching on dailymotion.com. Rowan loves the music, dancing along with it, and clapping her hands with the little bear every time he does during the theme song. We love seeing so many little aspects of french culture embedded in it.

Here's one of her favorites. After singing along with the theme song, we started watching. I remembered walking the two blocks to our local marché, and ordering fruits, veggies, cheese, butter, bread and meat from the vendors. Then I looked more carefully.

Watch Papa Ours' pants. The length.

Hilarious. Even french cartoon men wear their pants too short.

Petit Ours Brun Se Perd Au Marché
Uploaded by princesse_rebeu

Babe's Anatomy

Before the taping started: "Rowan, where's your nose?"




And Dr. B thought it was pointless to name all her body parts as I washed them in the tub, when she was just two months old. It's amazing how much they soak up.

Note the "Tappe, tappe dans tes mains" at the end. It's from the Petit Ours Brun theme song. She claps along whenever it plays, and tries to hop by stomping her feet when it says, "saute, saute, les pieds joints". She's learning French!

Voilà mon passeport!

J'adore les Flight of the Conchords! Even when they absolutely butcher the French language, do a terrible impression of Maurice Chevalier, and picnic in sorbet-colored togs a stripey scarves while cavorting with baguettes.

C'est si bon!