The first installment in Bookworm’s travelogue.
Travel with my kids has already been broadening. As we ran our last minute errands this morning, I explained to my kids that they were not to contradict Mommy and Daddy if they heard us tell a lie. If we did so, I assured her, it would be for a good reason, usually related to security.
“For example,” I said, “we might tell someone we’re Canadian, not American.”
They asked, “Why would you do that?”
“Because a lot of people don’t like America,” I replied.
And then my daughter burst out with this gem: “If they don’t like America, why do they all want to come to this country?”
Out of the mouths of babes, right?
My son charmed me too. As I write this, we’re on an Air France plane (the Airbus, for those interested), although France is not one of our immediate destinations. French is on our minds.
I was joking around with my son when he grumbled that there was no rap on the entertainment console. “Rap is too gauche for the French.” (It’s too gauche for me too.)
“What does gauche mean?”
“It means tacky. But it also means left — as opposed to right.”
His comeback? “Oh! You mean like gauche wing wacko?”
I love my kids.