OK, I probably wouldn't be teaching le Petit to sing the national anthem at such a young age if we lived in the US. But my determination to raise a small Yankee in Paris, fueled in part by my recent homesickness, has led me to exhibit more patriotic zeal than I would ordinarily. And le Petit loves the song right now, for some reason, and frequently asks for it by name.
"Tu veux 'The Star Spangled Banner?'" he asks, "Tu veux que maman chante?"
And so I sing it just as everyone does, with more pride than technique, though I'm happy to say I can finally produce a rendition that doesn't make me cringe when I hit "o'er the land of the free-e-e." Le Petit sometimes joins in, and I think we sound even better à deux.
I decided nonetheless that I shouldn't neglect his French cultural education.
"Daddy will sing 'La Marseillaise', if you ask him," I offered helpfully. My husband looked reluctant to play along, so I started to sing it myself.
"Allons enfants de la patrie-e-e..."
Le Petit cut me off abruptly. "Non! Non! Ce n'est pas la bonne musique!" Not the right music. OK, then.
"How about 'Home on the Range?'"
That one he approved of, probably thanks to Cowboy Small, and he even started singing all by himself:
"'Ome, 'ome on the range! Where the deer and the ant all go play!"
I'm ridiculously proud of this, "ant" and all.