“The usual bucket-rake-shovel beach toys or a bodyboard?”
Mark hesitated for a second. “Bodyboard.”
For 40 reais ($9.50), it was a good deal, even though I suspected that like riding the trottinette, it would be a steep learning curve. No worries, teaching him is right down my alley. I’ll never be a soccer or hockey mom, but I spent my teenage summers bodyboarding, windsurfing and surfing along the Atlantic Coast.
Ahem… You never forget how to ride a bike—or catch a wave, right? RIGHT??
“Do this,” “don’t do that,” and “seriously?” are probably the sentences I say the most at home. I’m not the fun parent and sometimes, I worry that I don’t spend enough quality time with Mark, that he always sees me working, being busy or tired.
On top of that, I always feel vaguely foreign in Canada. I don’t really stand out—after all, I’ve been Canadian for almost half of my life now—but I wonder how Mark sees me because clearly, I didn’t grow up here. I can’t relate to his Canadian childhood. I always forget “pizza day” at school because guess what, we didn’t have “pizza day” in France. I don’t know local recess games—for months, I thought “Fortnite” was the Canadian version of tag or hide and seek. I’ve never made a snowman, worn a snowsuit or sang “O Canada,” I’ve never taken a school bus, celebrated Halloween or spent hours in a car every day. I don’t particularly like to watch movies, I can’t use the tablet and no, Mark we didn’t have Wi-Fi when I was a kid.
But I can swim and catch a wave. I’ll show you all the tricks, mon chéri.