I just flew in from Denver and boy, are my arms tired!
Guck, guck, guck. On our flight last night to Virginia, Sissy got stuck behind the drink cart with a French guy.
(Uh, ok. That whole description made me feel super yucky for a sec.)
But how did you know he was French?
Sissy: Because he said, “Something…something…Francais.”
He was probably asking you if you speak French. So what did you say?
Sissy: I said, “Uh-huh,” and then nodded and smiled.
[Here she smiled wide for me in the re-telling and revealed her pink American teen braces. Yes, pink. It’s a thing they do with braces now that we’re from the future. Royal blue headgear is from the past. Trust me, I know this.]
And then what happened?
Sissy: He talked some more French.
Did you respond to what he was saying?!
Sissy: I said, “Cool! Cool!” then the cart got done so I waved bye and walked away.
And that? Is how an American teen (who doesn’t actually speak French) speaks French.