We're still working through great quantities of Easter chocolate. I, uncharacteristically, am utterly untempted by it, and in fact can barely stand the sight of it, even though it is good stuff: Lindt, mostly, along with some from a Troyes chocolate shop. My stomach has gone decidedly strange on me.
Luckily, my husband and le Petit are eating through it slowly but purposefully. And every night at the end of dinner, my husband offers le Petit a poisson du chocolat, or chocolate fish, which are more traditional than chocolate eggs and bunnies here in France.
Tonight I ran to the kitchen and came back with a chocolate sea horse. Le Petit looked at it skeptically.
"Ca c'est un hippocampe," he correctly identified before popping it in his mouth.
Out of nowhere, a discussion ensued about whether or not a hippocampe (sea horse) was really a poisson (fish). My husband maintained that although I was scientifically correct, I was still wrong. I wasn't really interested in understanding his argument, but I was still quite interested in proving I was right, so I pulled out the Petit Larousse 2000.
I first read the definition of poisson, then the definition of hippocampe, then cackled in triumph.
My husband turned to le Petit and said matter-of-factly, "You see, just as I was saying, maman is right."
"You know what? I just realized, you're just like my boss," I said, remembering similar surreal discussions I'd had at work.
"I think most French are just like me," he admitted, happily.