Growing up bi-lingual doesn't just happen. It takes dedication, a great deal of patience and often repeating words, over and over again. French husband speaks French to the children, and naturally I speak English to them.
When Chelsea was three years old, she said with sweet reflection, "Mere de Dieu." I looked over at French husband and saw he was beaming with pride. He whispered over to me, "Chelsea said, Mother of God, in French." He translated, "She is praying."
Chelsea repeated, "Mer-de...Dieu!" Then she started to giggle. I looked over at French husband, and asked if I was missing an inside joke or something? He shook his head no, but studied Chelsea with a very stern look.
"Mer...de... dieu." She repeated giggling louder.
Then went on to say with a sweet little voice, "Mere de Dieu." She repeated this over and over, once with a sweet voice, and then Merde Dieu with a stern voice. Each time giggling harder and harder. "Mer-de Dieu. Mere de Dieu. Merde
Dieu. Merde Dieu. Mere de Dieu..."
Glancing over at French husband I saw he in shocked silly. Chelsea was hearing the sounds of the words "mere de," which means, "mother of." Then saying them quickly together mere-de, realizing she was saying, "merde," a bad word (which means shit in English.)
One of the best things about being a
bi-lingual family is moments like this. I leaned over to French husband
and beamed, "At least I know she didn't learn it from me... I speak English."
Photo: Vintage holy cards that pray lovingly to the Mother of God correctly in French.
