Looks Can Be Deceiving
Last week Madame Dessame, a friend of Jean Paul's, called to invite us for a "promenade." To me that means walk, so I didn't bother to tell her about Carter, because certainly he could ride along in his stroller while we leisurely walked around the neighborhood and chatted.
When Mme & Monsieur Dessame (72 and 78, respectively) arrived on Tuesday morning wearing hiking boots I got a little worried, but proceeded to say it was no problem for Carter to walk with us and we could carry him if he got tired. I had a very hard time understanding her husband, who has a bit of a lisp and talks in a cadence that's different than what Dave and I have grown accustomed to hearing. But who am I to criticize? It was probably harder for him to understand me, and they're the nicest people ever. Plus the guy climbs mountains at 78 years old.
We drove to a hilly nature preserve that apparently used to have an active volcano, parked the car, and everyone put on a backpack that carried water and our lunch. That was at 10:30. We hiked up a rocky mountain trail until just after noon, when we stopped.
Mme Dessame had prepared a lovely lunch with pasta salad, bread and cheese, ham, a banana, a piece of chocolate, plus wine and coffee, of course! Carter was convinced the small plastic bottle filled with dark wine was actually juice and would not stop bugging me to have it. After 10 minutes of incessant whining I decided it was time for him to learn, for the first time, that things are not always as they look. He took a grand swig of the wine and threw the bottle back at me. "OH SICK", he said in 2-year-old-speak. This immediately ended the begging. Have you ever smelled wine? Grape juice mixed with gasoline can't be that good. But don't ask me, talk to Carter, he knows.
After lunch we hiked back to the car and eventually arrived home in the late afternoon. The best part of the day was near the end, when Dave and I had a minute out of earshot and he said to me "I have not understood ONE word this guy has said to me in the last six hours." I of course had to stifle my laughter!
Labels: Bad Language, Frenchies We Love, Venturing Out
1 Comments:
I can totally hear Dave saying that. I was laughing out loud.
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