Children: Put on Spongebob, please, please, please.
Me: Alright, alright, alright.
Michael: Not in French.
Me: It’s French or nada.
Michael: Oh, not Nada, ok then French please.
Poor Michael, as though “nada” were another new language I am about to pull out of my back pocket and force him to learn.
They will thank you in the future when they can produce all those subtly-different French vowels (so easy to say “arse” by mistake).
I’m traveling in Croatia later this year. May I take Michael along as my interpreter?
Yes, I know, Eimear, something I have done myself.
BroLo, of course. Do you know that I speak rudimentary Croatian, no, really, I do.