⪧ We left our life in New York City to make a new one in Provence ⪦

April 28, 2008

On a Sunday Afternoon

We went strolling along Canal Saint-Martin yesterday.



We saw unanticipated things like this:



And rather unsettling things like this (that is a toilet on wheels):



And although I didn't witness the act, I can only imagine the aggravation or delight driving this one:



We saw splendor:



And most delightful of all, Mlle. Marguerite (who, when determined to stay in one place and continue playing, does not mind if you walk away and 'disappear' in an attempt to get her to follow. She just continues on, as stubborn as her dad, unperceptive to the fact that she is alone - or at least undaunted by it. She is going through the appropriation phase of childhood at the moment. She distinguishes everything by announcing to whom it belongs: c'est a moi. c'est a papa. c'est a mimi. But mainly c'est a moi (it is mine) - including the entrance gate at the playground, which she guards, and from which she monitors and directs traffic. She extends her analysis of what is hers to her dad. When she sees a photo of Xavier, she points to it and says, "papa! il est a moi!" (papa, he is mine!), and pats her chest with her hand for emphasis):

1 comment:

JR said...

c'est cute! Julie was laughing at how I was pronouncing your french language. I tell ya, sometimes I just can win. Joyce has also reached that stage of us leaving her alone, but she's usually asleep. It's much easier that way and now that she's armed with her dous-dous.

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