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.