Fire to the rain.

The latest album by Adele is on, loud. 21 is what it is called. Pat forced me to download it, thanks. Give it a listen if possible, it is pretty sassy. Leo and I are dancing wildly in between paragraphs (mine) and switchbacks (his) with the Swiffer. Leo, King of the push broom. I am trying to teach him as much as I know. And Lord knows, I know the way of the broom. Speaking of Le Poulet, he is now feeding himself lunch. Face, hands, spoon, fork, he is getting in there. Hand to mouth, first hand. It is such a privilage to call this 'work'; to arrive every morn to a beautiful home filled with love and respect for one another, to watch a little person grow! Whoa, this kid. He has started throwing fits on the sidewalk, little shinda. Too bad it is so cute to watch, discipline is a strange concept. The idea of holding hands is too much for him, he refuses even though it is the rule. We walk outside (or cruise with feet off the ground in the carriage or backpack, we are mobile for 2-3 hours every day) to the corner of St. Viateur and Waverly. Leo, upset by being LED, sits down on wet concrete with a defiance that I secretly delight in. He shrieks like a gull for a bit, I laugh and crouch down, explain yet again why it is important to hold onto each other. Little crossed sea creature legs, wet bum, little pout, gros bebe. NON! Leo does not simply say this, he projects it with gumption. NON! His two words (en anglais) a la moment: No and Ball. Ball came this week. Ball. I love watching him learn, repeat, relate the word to the article in question. Ball. NON. He points at me and says, "no" when caught doing something he knows is not allowed. Touche pas Leo. Touch not! I love french.

Speaking of the French, my dear friend Christian rolled through Montreal last night and it was so nice to walk around my neighborhood with a friend, speaking freely, tea in a jar, whiskey in another jar, both changing hands in between fast photographs. Dirt Dog chinese slop for dinner. I finished up a project in the wings for Meach at the dinner table while Pat and Christian spoke French over my bent neck. "Did you catch any of that?" nope. LE le. C'est ca. I am not catching much, but I do appreciate being immersed in it. This Sunday is JJ and Nabi's Spring ball, a French dinner party. I am going and while I will probably sit pretty and mute, I will listen, trying in vain to absorb single words at a time. Quebecoise french is bonkers, words slide into the next, there are tricks of the tongue for efficiency. Same as English in that way. I am in an interesting position in my life; anonymous and quiet, observant. The student hat is on, I am hungry to learn!