Sometimes, I’m not 100% sure where Mark is exactly.

Maybe he is playing football with other kids by the castle. Maybe he went to buy a snack or a drink at the supermarket. Maybe he is just wandering around the city.

Yes, all by himself.

It’s fine, really.

At one point, kids have to get a bit street smart, a skill acquired in the street—off you go, kiddo, make your own experiences.

Mark’s life in Canada is very sheltered. Feng drives him to and from school because there’s no way he can walk to school safely—it’s a 30-minute walk mostly along one of Ottawa’s busiest roads, I’m scared of traffic and cars turning at the red light, not random strangers offering him drugs. After school ends at 2:45 p.m. (gasp!), Mark is usually on the couch, playing Minecraft. If the weather is nice, I hear the door slam around 5:30 p.m.—”I’m going to the park!” The neighbourhood park is literally across the street and he’s been going alone for about a year. Other Canadian parents find that crazy. It’s a fucking playground and football field in suburban Ottawa, get real, people!

But that’s about all the freedom 11-year-old Mark gets in Ottawa because he can’t go anywhere fun alone. I walk to most places and I can tell you suburbia isn’t pedestrian-friendly or particularly entertaining in general. There’s nowhere to go but the supermarket, the convenience store or the cannabis store. There’s nowhere to hang out except at Tim Hortons. There’s nothing to do but buy stuff.

Mark’s first adventure alone was in Nantes—at six years old, he used to go to the convenience store downstairs to buy Chupa Chups.

Last summer, I started giving him more freedom in France. I let him go buy snacks or groceries at the supermarket, a 10-minute walk from home. I let him take the tramway alone from the train station to my mum’s place, three stops away.

This year, he was ready for more. He knows his way around the city, I’m not worried. When I was Mark’s age, I was roaming around and so did my friends. “But in today’s world…” Yeah, well, the world wasn’t any kinder 30 years ago. Mark needs to learn and make small mistakes.

Two days after we arrived, he went to buy a soccer ball.

“I got lost,” he admitted when he came back with the ball. “I took the wrong street.”

“What did you do? Were you scared?”

“Nope. I just turned around. I knew where I was, I was just in the wrong street. I was considering asking someone but then I found it.”

I was rather proud of him. This is how you learn! I get lost once in a while, I’m sure you do too. And then what? We find our way back or forward.

Two days ago, I gave him my debit card to buy a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt.

“Most of the time, you just tap to pay,” I explained. “But once in a while, I have to insert the card and use my PIN code. It’s a random, thing in France just to make sure people don’t forget their PIN. So if you need it, my PIN is 1234.”

Mark came back slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t think I did this right. I tapped but it didn’t work, the guy told me to insert the card. So I did and told him the PIN. You didn’t tell me I had to ENTER it!”

I couldn’t stop laughing. I guess I should have mentioned it…

The other day I spotted Mark with a bottle of Coke at the football field. I have no idea where he bought it but you know what I’m fine with that, he needs a break and so do I.

I’ll be here if he needs me—I’ll always be here, just holding his hand metaphorically instead of literally.

Meanwhile, here are the people of Nantes, July edition!