Yesterday I started our casual French lessons by teaching the boys the days of the week. Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi… etc. Today is lundi. Tomorrow, it will be mardi.
Massive giggling. Lots of laughter. Saying the words in funny voices to make them sound even more funny. Synchronized jumping with each flashcard. Then someone farted and it went downhill from there.
Sigh… Boys!
Afterward I sent them to bed and wished them a bon nuit and then wondered if I’m completely wasting my time. Is this how it’s going to be? Is everything that stinking funny? I’m SO OVER POTTY HUMOR.
By the end of the night I convinced myself to keep going. This is an experiment, after all, not a course for semester credit. They may not retain a single noun or verb, but at least I know that going into it. I just need to take the pressure off and chill.
Of course, these efforts may pay off years from now when I make them read Le Petit Prince and they’ll remember that summer Mom introduced them to the days of the week in French. They might remember some colors and numbers or how to introduce themselves and say “please” and “thank you.” If that’s what we get out of it, great. For that, I suppose I can tolerate a little more laughter and subsequent potty humor.
But not much more potty humor. No, I think I’m about done with that.
Um, Jen, I hate to break it to you, but I know almost 40 year old men who still laugh at and make potty humor. It’s just what men, well boys, do.
I know this is true, but I keep telling myself that MY two boys will grow out of it. It’s part of that fantasy world I choose to live in…