T’choupi is the world’s most boring mole. Our infant daughter loves him. They have a T’choupi book at the creche and she had to be wrenched away from it kicking and screaming. Mr. Waffle decided we needed to lay in T’choupi resources of our own and went to the bookshop this weekend to stock up. He couldn’t see any T’choupi stuff on the shelves, so he asked a bored assistant whether he was familiar with T’choupi the mole. “No, can’t say I’ve heard of him….unless you mean T’choupi the famous mole?” and he led Mr. Waffle round a corner to a shrine dedicated to T’choupi. Bingo.
Meanwhile the Princess and I were visiting the Glam Potter and little L. It will come as no surprise to learn that L has her own T’choupi volume and the two girls sat on the floor tugging at it and screaming “T’choupi, T’choupi” until I came and separated the combatants and escorted herself, kicking and screaming (T’choupi) to the car.
What with one thing and another, “T’choupi” was my book of choice for mass this
morning. We were somewhat mortified as we went through the mole’s adventures sotto voce to see that the child next to us had a range of religious books which he was carefully perusing. Came home and related our discomfiture to Mr. Waffle. “And” I said “one of the books was called ‘Je vous salue Marie'”. “Yes?”. “But don’t you tutoyer God along with parents, friends and pets?” “Oh yes but you vousvoyer Mary”. Dear Lord will the mysteries of French never cease to baffle me?