As a mom, the first thing I notice when traveling to a different country (aside from the visually obvious native clothing) is how kid friendly the place is. How does the general public respond to children, what is there to do for children, etc.? Because I have been plunged into “family” it has been interesting to get a view from the inside as well as the outside. Ironically, the event I will describe below took place just after I inquired about the French equivalent to “tongue in cheek” as I find French humor very tongue in cheek. The equivalent in French is mi fig, mi raisin ( ½ fig, ½ grape). And my daughter with her ¼ French blood, seems to understand it. Unfortunately she didn’t understand how differently the French treat children poking fun at them.

LIGHTS OUT, THE FRENCH FREAK-OUT.
I was in the kitchen starting to prepare that pesto I mentioned way back when in a previous blog (remember the basil and garlic festival in Tour?), when Greg’s aunt, came screeching through the kitchen and into the backyard where all the kids were playing. (she was watching her own two grandkids aged 4 & 2) All I saw was that she pulled Deva out of her seat and smacked her bum. I couldn’t believe it! I was furious. I went into the room where Greg was working on the computer and quickly told him what I had seen. She was apparently shaking her finger in a fury, and spouting off in French. Deva of course couldn’t understand what she was saying and playfully mocked her finger gestures. Of course on some level, Deva must have been making fun of her, I mean when you’re simply having a tea party in the back garden and someone comes about wagging a finger in foreign tongues, what can one do but have a bit of fun with it? Seriously it WAS a mi fig, mi raisin moment because get this: The clencher, the REASON for the unleashed anger and all the rage was due to….hold your breath………the fact that all of the lights were left on upstairs and there was no doubt that our kids were the culprits! (not the two-year old who hid his sister’s shoes the day before!)





It’s taken so long to write about this event because obviously any mother would be furious at the audacity of a virtual stranger thinking they could hit their child. So I’ve had to settle my angry writer’s instincts so as not to come across stark raving mad myself. And I’ve tried to wait until I could come up with a mi fig, mi raisin way to blog about it, which is proving to be difficult! I just can’t seem to find any humor in it. Of course it is pretty funny to think that a four-year-old is quick to know that you’re making an arse out of yourself. Oh yeah, that’s right, Deva gets the mi fig, mi raisin thing! I don’t have to, I can just be the annoyed mom.

My generation of parents has had to explain to our own parents how we prefer them to discipline our children, their grandchildren. Our parents don’t necessarily understand or agree with it but they respect it nonetheless. I’m just really surprised that the French of the same generation aren’t doing the same, especially with all of the information at everyone’s disposals these days.

Getting it off my chest, here’s the way I’d have liked to have seen it handled: “Please don’t leave the lights on up stairs, we’re trying to save energy. In some places they don’t even have lights, so let’s turn them off when we’re not using them, so all the other people who might really need it right now can use the energy.” Unfortunately my experiences indicate that children seem to be seen and not heard in traditional French families. I haven’t heard them talk to their children, the same way we talk to ours. Of course there must be parents out there with a similar mind set, however I think that it may be still considered more of an “alternative” approach to parenting. On a much lighter note, but still on topic, this entry is simply called, “Fruit courses rationed in France”.

Kai had himself a nice juicy peach. He then went to the fruit bowl, and I gave him “the nod” to say it was okay for him to have a pear as well. We don’t have pears (or peaches) in Thailand so these are most precious treats. Anyhow the “Aunt” told him that there is one piece of fruit per person. (but if you did the ‘ole head count, there was clearly more fruit than heads) “And you can’t just take a piece of fruit without asking!,” she said. (which I suspect was the real issue). I told her that I had said he could have it. But since my testimony didn’t seem to matter, I of course snatched the pear immediately as my quota and saved it for Kai later.

Twas my Venganga, sad but true. So put THAT in your cheek and make wine! You’re in serious need of a fig, I mean swig!

Cheers & Ciao for Now,

Gina