They're there every morning, with their scarves and boots, their comme tallez vous's and their je ne sais quoi's.
E's school occupies one wing of an old public school (where S attended elementary school, which we all think is pretty cool). The other wing houses the Ecole Bilingue.
Which means my day begins alongside French women in impeccable clothes speaking impeccable French to their impeccably-clad, impeccably French-speaking offspring.
Delightful. Or rather, charmant.
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1 comment:
So, it must be time to start on that clapotis, non?
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