Early one morning a couple of weeks ago.
Leila: Where’s papa?
Me: He’s on a plane, going to Houston, in America.
Rahul: Like the pilgrims?
Me: Yah, to America like the pilgrims. But he’s on a plane, not a boat, so he’ll be there by tomorrow.
Leila: Can you be papa?
Me: What do you mean can I be papa?
Leila: Papa talks French. You talk French.
Me: Woah. Oh. Tu veux que je parle en Francais avec vous?
They both look up at me, eyes gleaming. And smile.
Rahul: Papa talks Francais.
Me: D’accord, on peut parler en Francais.
Leila: Papa. Papa, I want to go to Etats Unis.
Me: On va aller aux Etats Unis bientot cherie. T’en fait pas…..
(Ten minutes of French later)
Me: Ok guys, come on, let’s go downstairs for breakfast.
Leila: Nooooo, you are papaaaa…you talk French.
Me: Ah, oui. J’ai oublie.
Rahul: No talk Francais mama. Talk Anglais. Waaaa. You are mama now.
Natasha Devalia 