Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Pick up is no pick me up

  Hop on son, let's ride on this extremely safe mode of transportation!

Luke's school has a lot of students. About sixty kids in his grade alone. The parents, grandparents, and nounous gather en masse outside this enormous gray metal gate everyday to pick up their brood. Some days you can hear the kids chanting different teachers' names as they line up outside, really adorable in their high-pitched tone with French accents. As the gate swings open, like cattle we funnel in, tripping over strollers, bobbing and weaving around those who like to stop mid stream oblivious to the fact they are causing flow issues.

                                  Bad angle, can't see how massive and gray those doors are.  Hey!  It's dress in              
                                  black day!

I've met a few English speaking moms but am usually a loner at pick up. I now can recognize certain French mom clicks but I can't say I really want to befriend them. One of the click moms, I'll call her shiny patent leather mom, yelled at Luke one day at the park for playing too rough with her younger son. I watched it all go down and although Luke was in the wrong, she overeacted, arms flailing and yelling at him. Then I had to go over and yell at him and act all incensed. I would love to befriend the international mom click. German mom and Finnish mom are pretty cool, and they speak English, bonus!

Today we waited a few extra minutes for the kids to come out and I started chatting with another mom. She too was not a native French speaker and I had no clue what she was saying! Here we are chatting and smiling at one another, she probably had no idea what I was saying either. Smoke signals would have probably worked better.

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