***Warning this post contains some potentially gross context**
I'm not sure how to describe the abundance of bakeries and patisseries here- they're like coffee shops, but there are twice as many. In our town there are three right next to each other- but no one cares because everyone has a favorite (probably because your cousin works at that one, or your brother is baker here...etc.) Well, like coffee shops, there are casualbringyourkidsin kind of bakeries and then there are the snootyyoucantprenouncethis kind of bakeries. On Sunday, after strolling through the farmers market, we went into the snooty kind of bakery to pick up a dessert I "simply had to try". It was very elegant inside and incredibly quiet considering the length of the line behind us. We gave Jean a piece of bread to keep him quiet for a minute...he did a little cough and looked up at us...we said..."Ca va? (you okay?)"....he simply smiled, then opened his mouth and projectile vomited all over the place.
Guys. I started laughing so hard that my laughter actually became more inappropriate than Jean's incident.
But the giggles have hit me more than once lately. At a fitness class last night I found myself particularly stumped by a Beyonce-style move that involved some complex hand/foot coordination. As I clearly have no coordination of the sort, I tried for a couple of minutes before resolving to laughter. I couldn't get a hold of myself there either but the class was too full to exit so I just stood in shame.
Today, I learned that this is the kind of family where your socks match (and are preferably argyle). I mean, I should have known - the people wash their jeans every time they wear them for goodness sake - but I wasn't expecting an argument. We were late for school and Justine hurriedly put on the only socks she could find (a brown and a pink *GASP). When we presented ourselves downstairs she was yelled at for not have matching socks and we had to go on a hunt to find new ones. Unfortunately, I too was wearing unmatching socks at the time - a neon green and a tie-dyed orange - it was particularly hard to conceal my feet at that moment. Again, I simply hung my head in shame and went back upstairs.
I find myself stumped again by the French good foods and French bad foods game. For snack time Monday, Laetitia asked Louis if he wanted apple juice or hot chocolate, he said he wanted tea. Not seeing a problem with this, I proceeded to get out the Nestle Iced Tea bottle he loves- but his mom panicked and said "No! Too much sugar!" So instead he had hot chocolate, two pieces of pound cake and two little debbie snacks (or the French equivalent anyway). Maybe this is just one of those mom things I'll never really understand (like which t-shirts are hung dry and which go in the dryer, or when the dog can go outside when he whines and when we have to tell him to stop whining.)
Sorry for the lengthy update- thanks for reading!
I'm not sure how to describe the abundance of bakeries and patisseries here- they're like coffee shops, but there are twice as many. In our town there are three right next to each other- but no one cares because everyone has a favorite (probably because your cousin works at that one, or your brother is baker here...etc.) Well, like coffee shops, there are casualbringyourkidsin kind of bakeries and then there are the snootyyoucantprenouncethis kind of bakeries. On Sunday, after strolling through the farmers market, we went into the snooty kind of bakery to pick up a dessert I "simply had to try". It was very elegant inside and incredibly quiet considering the length of the line behind us. We gave Jean a piece of bread to keep him quiet for a minute...he did a little cough and looked up at us...we said..."Ca va? (you okay?)"....he simply smiled, then opened his mouth and projectile vomited all over the place.
Guys. I started laughing so hard that my laughter actually became more inappropriate than Jean's incident.
But the giggles have hit me more than once lately. At a fitness class last night I found myself particularly stumped by a Beyonce-style move that involved some complex hand/foot coordination. As I clearly have no coordination of the sort, I tried for a couple of minutes before resolving to laughter. I couldn't get a hold of myself there either but the class was too full to exit so I just stood in shame.
Today, I learned that this is the kind of family where your socks match (and are preferably argyle). I mean, I should have known - the people wash their jeans every time they wear them for goodness sake - but I wasn't expecting an argument. We were late for school and Justine hurriedly put on the only socks she could find (a brown and a pink *GASP). When we presented ourselves downstairs she was yelled at for not have matching socks and we had to go on a hunt to find new ones. Unfortunately, I too was wearing unmatching socks at the time - a neon green and a tie-dyed orange - it was particularly hard to conceal my feet at that moment. Again, I simply hung my head in shame and went back upstairs.
I find myself stumped again by the French good foods and French bad foods game. For snack time Monday, Laetitia asked Louis if he wanted apple juice or hot chocolate, he said he wanted tea. Not seeing a problem with this, I proceeded to get out the Nestle Iced Tea bottle he loves- but his mom panicked and said "No! Too much sugar!" So instead he had hot chocolate, two pieces of pound cake and two little debbie snacks (or the French equivalent anyway). Maybe this is just one of those mom things I'll never really understand (like which t-shirts are hung dry and which go in the dryer, or when the dog can go outside when he whines and when we have to tell him to stop whining.)
Sorry for the lengthy update- thanks for reading!
Ha ha ha -so glad I wasn't there- once you start laughing I start and then neither of us are in control!!
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