I’m not just an unpublished writer—I used to sing, too.

Twelve years ago, I rose to fame with my brilliant interpretation of Ainsi font. And I wasn’t some kind of one-hit wonder either, my repertoire included L’empereur, sa femme et le petit prince as well as Meunier, tu dors.

I was able to perform anytime, anywhere, in front of a tough crowd.

Sometimes, I had to come back for an encore. Like, many encores.

I had songs to put Mark to bed and songs to keep him awake. Yes, awake. Freelancers don’t get mat’ leave, so I had to work the minute he was asleep because I do not recommend translating with a baby Velcro on you. Once in a while, or even daily, I’d give up on putting him to sleep. I’d take us somewhere we both didn’t want or need to go instead. Of course, he would doze off in his car seat the minute I was parking at Chapters, IKEA or the mall. So I’d sing to keep him awake until home, where he would surely go back to sleep for at least a couple of hours… or not.

Ainsi font is a 15th-century nursery rhyme, a classic in France.

This is only the first verse. Note that you’re supposed to turn your wrists clockwise and counterclockwise since your hands are the “puppets.” The second verse prompts you to jump, followed by hiding your hands behind your back because, according to the song, “the puppets will come back when the kids are asleep.”

Eh, don’t judge. Millions of French babies have been finding it hilarious since the 15th century.

I heard a mom singing this song yesterday, and I started laughing because I identified with the puppet.

I mean, we’re all puppets in the hands of capitalism, but I really feel like a puppet because this is what I keep on doing in many countries around the world—three little tricks and then I go away.

It’s the end of summer, and I’m sad. Mark is worried about Grade 8 and whether he will have a moustache by Tuesday (apparently, it’s a must-have, just like a backpack or a pencil case). I’m worried about Grade 8 (not the moustache), plus everything else. The atmosphere changed suddenly. The days are getting shorter, everybody is getting ready for the new year—for me, the year will always start in September, not in January, even though I lost my student status around 2005—and I have no plans except our Air France flight to Ottawa on Saturday.

Argh. This is terrifying.

Because in doubt, I always go somewhere, I dragged everybody to the beach on Sunday and Monday, just to enjoy summer one last time.

If my puppet story is too metaphorical, here are the pictures of rare, hot and sunny last August beach days!