It Just Might Work!!
It has been a battle. For no other reason than I have ties to the country and I love the language, I’ve been trying to convince my kids that they should take and learn French in High School. I finally convinced my daughter, who is not yet in High School. I got to her by appealing to her appreciation of beauty and foreign adventure.
The son has been a bit of a challenge, however. None of the arguments I’ve tried have been able to walk him back from his, "Why am I going to need French" response.
I think I found a new argument.
In the past I prevailed upon his affinity for wine. I’ve been tasting wine with my son from a very young age. He sniffs, tastes, swallows then tells me what he tasted and smelled. He’s pretty good at it. In fact, back in grade school when we started doing this he showed an affinity for putting words to flavors and aromas.
So I explained, "the world of wine is really based on a French vocabulary! The names of the grapes are french, son. And words like ‘Clos and Chateau’ are all over wine. You can’t really appreciate wine if you don’t understand its traditional language."
To which he responded, "I don’t need to read French to know if it’s red or white".
True. But what’s more important than his brilliant observation is that I haven’t done a good job teaching him the real pleasure in going beyond red and white. But that’s neither here nor there…for now.
Being as stubborn as he, I’ve not been willing to give up. I’m not willing quite yet to let him, at the mere age of 14, get away with winning an argument. So I’ve kept my mind open, looking for new and better arguments. I think I found one, of sorts.
Having lunched at Boulevard recently with a friend (it’s still a fabulous restaurant), and having consumed a nice Pastis and Barbera with my Salmon Carpaccio and Bavette of Kobi, I needed to use the restroom. Instructions given to me were, "through the door, through the next door, down the stairs, to the right, down hall."
When I got there I saw two doors labeled: "Hommes" and "Dames". No pictures!
I’m tempted to take my son to Boulevard, fill him up on Diet Pepsi, then send him to the restroom with the hopes that, having not known the difference between "hommes" and "dames" he’ll walk in on a crowd of dames adjusting themselves.
It just might work!