This year Shawn and Hannah planted a little strawberry patch in our garden.
(In case you think that we have a garden in the American definition of a garden, now is a good time to tell you that Europeans call their backyards gardens, and a backyard is a cement slab/patio at the back of the house.)
To clarify: Shawn and Hannah planted a little strawberry patch in an area of grass located at the back of our house.
Anyway, their plants recently bore their first fruits.
On the day we bought the plants at Hornbach, which is like the European version of Home Depot (they have an orange sign and everything), a woman approached Shawn and asked him a question (in French) about the strawberries.
He politely explained that he doesn’t speak French well enough to help her so would she mind if he spoke English?
The woman rolled her eyes, gave and exasperated sigh and walked away.
The French have a phrase for expressing anger: J’en ai plein les bottes, which literally translates to I have full boots and basically means I’ve had enough.
Apparently this lady’s boots were really full because she tracked down a manager, brought him to the strawberry plant table, pointed her finger at Shawn, and complained loudly about his poor French.
Now, I don’t know if it was the shirt he was wearing or the way he was meticulously sorting through the plants with a certain horticulture expertise, but it became apparent that this woman thought THAT SHAWN WAS AN ACTUAL EMPLOYEE OF THE STORE.
The manager stared at Shawn, then back at the woman and explained that there was nothing he could do about this man’s ability to speak French because he does not, in fact, work here.
I don’t know how we get ourselves into these kind of situations.
You may be wondering why Finley is not wearing pants in this picture.
Here’s what happened:
We were walking to school to pick up Hannah when a bird flew overhead and pooped directly on Finn’s jeans. It took a minute for me to register what had happened and later that day when I texted Shawn to tell him about it he replied with some nonsense about it being good luck. Well, maybe for Finn it was, but it certainly wasn’t for me, as I was the one who had to clean it up. And I was in a big hurry to pick up Hannah, get the kids back to the car and get to my doctor appointment.
Then I realized that I didn’t have a change of clothes for Finn because OF COURSE I DIDN’T.
So we headed to my doctor’s office and the receptionist showed us into the little room to wait. Hannah plopped down onto one of the chairs and discovered that if she sat down with enough gusto, the leather chair made a tooting sound. This reduced her to a heap of giggles because when you’re six, there’s not much funnier than toot noises. Then Finn started laughing because when you’re a boy, toot noises are funny, no matter what age you are. And I started laughing because the whole thing was just so ridiculous.
So, to recap our day: a bird pooped on Finn, my doctor walked in to find all three of us laughing at toot noises and Finn was sitting in his stroller without pants.
I bet I’m his favorite patient.
(And I think Shawn may be Hornbach’s favorite customer.)