Today I picked up Le Petit from school without his mother with me for the first time. Though the tears I expected did happen (I am, after all, a frightful American) it, like Wednesday, went better than expected.
Picking up a child from school, at least at this particular school, is not for the faint of heart. The teachers neatly arrange the children on little benches along the wall, and try (with some success) to keep them still. And then at 4:30 the doors open and all the mamans stampede into the vestibule to collect their kids. Giant swinging handbags knock into children's heads, strollers swerve violently while their passengers shriek, little ones are almost trampled entirely. Socks, pacifiers, mittens, teddy bears are swallowed up and lost amidst a steady, high-pitched din. The teachers' "bonsoir"s are barely audible. V says it makes her lose faith in humanity.
I approached Le Petit with an intrepid smile and a bonjour. He industriously sucked on his pacifier without saying a word and stayed put, waiting patiently for Maman. As I held out my hand, grin still in place, the truth dawned on him and he began to cry. Loudly of course. Not feeling particularly inclined to indulge a long dispute I explained (in very poor French) that Maman was at work and we had to go. Since he would not move, I plucked him up and carried him waling, "Je ne veux pas!" out of the building. He continued to scream for his mother for about a minute, but by the end of our very slow walk home, he'd forgotten about Maman apparently, and was ready for his snack. So yeah, not too bad.
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