We bought Mark a trottinette, i.e. a kick scooter—but since none of us knew the proper terminology for it English, we adopted the French name.
Browsing: Junior Kindergarten Mark
First daycare/school/camp drop-off is my parenting trademark. I suspect if Feng was witnessing any sign of separation anxiety, he would drive home with Mark in the back seat.
This first school year left me feeling somewhat frustrated. Back in September, I had many questions, practical and cultural, and I never got answers.
As the official head of the parental communication team, I was fully prepared to help Mark read the fine print of life in society.
I love Feng. I love Mark. But I’m not sure I always get the message across.
“This is NOT a gun!” “That’s right. This is just a ‘T’ you happen to hold like a gun.”
“Mark, I have chocolate. Find it! Rabbit.”
“Look! It fits!”
“Mark… this was your baby hat. It doesn’t fit, it looks like you’re wearing a kippah!”
Among the people who celebrate Christmas, religiously or secularly, there are two teams.
I work for three more minutes before realizing, like every night, that Mark isn’t going to obediently turn the TV off and come upstairs by himself, without parental supervision. I mean, he is perfectly able to perform these tasks—he just doesn’t want to.
I’ve been living in Canada for so long that any true culture shock I faced is now a distant memory.
Or so I thought, until last month.
At four, I considered Mark was old enough to help me mangle a North American classic: cupcakes. The challenge? Two persons, one kitchen, yummy ingredients but abysmal baking skills.
“Dude, if you were your dad, I’d say you were skillfully changing the subject of the conversation. In fact, you sound like your dad when I’m trying to have a serious and open chat about our relationship—”
Ladies and gentlemen, it was true. Kids do grow up.
I’m standing in the middle of the schoolyard and Mark is holding my hand very tightly. He probably thinks that like a balloon, I’m going to fly away the moment he lets it go.
I almost missed the French éducation nationale. Sure, like millions of students, I regularly protested various education reforms over the years, but at least the ministry’s communication efforts were consistent and on a national basis.