Un Vrai Monsieur

Each month at the children's' school they have an event they call une "Concentration." In effect a school assembly where any child has the opportunity to present themselves (a particular skill or talent) before the assembled school body. Parents are invited to attend. Generally there are a few class presentations and a smattering of children. It lasts about an hour.

Yesterday Sam came home with a note from his teacher informing us that he would be reciting a poem (from memory) at this month's Concentration. Wonderful except the Concentration was this morning. Thanks for the notice. Normally I would move mountains to attend but I need some notice to get my earth-moving equipment in place. I had an important meeting this morning that I could not avoid and while I did all the math in my head to figure out how I could do both it was evident by the time I woke up this morning (yes I thought about this at random moments through the night) that I wouldn't be able to go. This was complicated because Daniel is deep in the doghouse for missing out on a field trip he was supposed to accompany Kamryn on yesterday morning. I know he has a medical appointment this morning that would make his own attendance problematic and I wasn't in the mood to discuss contingencies with him after the field trip fiasco.

Anyway so there I am feeling guilty and I decided to just arm Sam with everything I could and send him off with good wishes and the support of his awesome big sister. I set out a brand new school uniform for him - pants, a turtleneck and a vest. Then he asked if he could wear a tie. He was so excited. I pointed out that to wear a tie he needed to wear a shirt not a turtleneck and went to help him get organized. He then explained to his guilt-wracked mother (with pride in his voice) why he wanted to wear a tie: "je veux porter une cravate, Maman, pour être comme un vrai monsieur qui travail; comme toi Maman." (Translation: I want to wear a tie, Mommy, to be like a real man who works; like you Mommy.)

He melted my heart.

I wish he had a cellphone so I could call my 6 year old and see how it went. I'd ask Daniel but I don't even know if he went because of the whole doghouse thing - communication was poor this morning.

I hope he didn't speak too fast. He has a tendancy to do that; as do I.