Friday, July 20, 2007

Identity Crisis

Last week, Little Man decided that he wanted to eat at the table with us, rather than on his booster seat's tray. Which so far, has been a very good experience and the attacks on us with toddler utensils have been reduced to zero.

I've even gotten as bold as serving little man his meal on a real and breakable plate, rather than the plastic bowls from the dollar section at Target he has been accustomed to hurling on our tile floor. This means that I now hardly eat, between my fear of Little Man losing an eye should he decide to scratch an itch on his lid with his fork still in his hand, and my fear of having to replace my wedding gift dishes.

But the weight is coming off great thanks to this twist, I'm talking like ounces a week.

Last night though, Little Man got mad at his baked beans, something I serve because I live in Texas and it's considered an appropriate side dish here, even though my French heritage is so offended each time I open a can of Bush's baked beans, that it begs for me to at least throw frog legs or snails in the pot so that I won't have my citizenship taken away. Maybe the fact he's half French made him realize that this really shouldn't be an acceptable thing to call dinner, especially when it's served alongside a hot dog and left over chili mac.

And so he began to disgustingly throw his beans on the tile. I must say, he has the French sneer down pat, to the point that a beret magically appeared on his head and he began to scoff and roll his eyes and calling us stupid Americains.

I told him that if he threw any more beans on the floor, I would have to put him in time out. The American side came out of him, because he refused to put up the white flag like a proper French man would do. The look he gave me could be loosely translated to "I live in the greatest country in the world, where freedom rings and I'm allowed to throw any damn food on the floor I want."

And so I had no choice but to put him in time out on the naughty step and explained to him that he was put there because of his disdain for authority, one trait shared by the French and the Americans. But not the Canadians. Because in Canada, the authority gives us free healthcare and a year maternity leave, so why would we not like them? Plus, it's kind of anti-Canadian to despise anyone. Except for the Americans, which Canadians mildly disdain and yet embrace all at the same time.

When I went to get him two minutes later. He was sitting there and when he saw me, his face softened. I kneeled in front of him to remind him why he'd been put on the naughty step, but before I had the chance to say anything, he gently grabbed my face between his two hands and kissed me. And then, just to ensure that my heart had turned into a puddle of mushy goo, he said "I wuv you, Mama."

And that, my friends, would be the Canadian in him, the same one that will one day sew a maple leaf on his backpack so that as he tours Europe, people will automatically love him and buy him drinks.

Love,

Catwoman.

11 comments:

M said...

Oh hell be still my heart.

And we thought I loved him before? *faints*

What a good little multi cultural child embracing all the horror of each country so well. :)

Kellie said...

He's so sweet, I can't stand it!! :)

jesse said...

OMG-can he be any sweeter! My heart melted just hearing the story. Kids sure do know how to make our hearts melt.

That Chick Over There said...

Love him. LOVE.

myminivanisfasterthanyours said...

But you ARE raising him as Detroit Red Wings fan, right? Sorry, but I hail from the Motor City, and that maple leaf comment brought out the hockey fan in me. Even though I now live in the desert. But near an ice rink. Very natural.

Beccy said...

Ahhh so cute, I'll buy him drinks if he ever travels my way!

Emma in Canada said...

Are you telling me your son does not yet have a maple leaf on his knapsack!? Shall I send you one so that all the teachers automatically know he is supposed to be well liked?

Holly said...

You know if you put a maple leaf on something around here, your son will be picked on by the ten gallon hat wearing red necks for being both French & Canadian, right? I mean I love the little tyke to pieces...even when looking at George or I renders him mute...so I just want you to understand in Texas, maple leaves are a no no. A big football, cowboy hat or a HUGE shape of Texas, yes, maple leaves, no.

Oh, and I truly HATE beans, so it's okay to be a bean hating Texan. You only need to panic if he starts throwing Tex-Mex on the floor.

How sweet that he sits on the naughty seat & begs forgiveness for transgressions after. Mine's such a toot, spanking now even elicits a demonic smile...like, "Ha, witchy mom-type, your power over me is diminished...mwwwoo hahahaha."

mcewen said...

Glad you're so good at the translations!
Cheers

Slick said...

I bet that boy gets away with all kinds of trouble don't he?? :)

Frog legs and baked beans? Hell, it might even be good.

Rachel said...

A sweet sweet heart to go along with dashing good looks? Girl, you're in trouble.