Thursday, May 7, 2009
Ne tirez pas, Cavanaugh!
Robert has departed for butler school in the Netherlands, and aside from embarrassing me several times in public and trying to kill me, I think our visit went pretty well.
But first -- there's a teeny tiny hussy on the playground. Several days in a row now there has been an OLDER GIRL, maybe five or so, lying in wait for the Loosh when I pick him up from school. As we cross the playground, she appears, blushing, in front of him. The first day she just waved a lot; the second day she touched his shoulder and today she touched the side of his face.
If her boldness continues to escalate, I will place a stern phone call to her mother with a warning to leave my three-year-old alone. Dammit, I thought I had more time before I had to start threatening adorable little girls.
So future butler friend Robert is on his way to butling school. It's OK to giggle at the word "butling" -- I sure did. That got me thinking that most words composed of body parts followed by an "ing" sound dirty, at least if you're in the proper immature frame of mind. Fingerling potatoes have always sounded a little dirty for this reason. And don't get me started on lipping, wristing, toeing, mouthing, throating, footing and necking. Robert then threw out "earring" and ruined all my fun.
Robert's course work at butling school sounds excruciatingly detail-oriented but also utterly fascinating. Here are a few lessons our dear friend is to learn: How to prepare the morning tray. How to prepare the breakfast tray. How to handle an uninvited guest your employer does not wish to see, most likely named MJ or Alex. How to handle a drunken guest, most likely named MJ or Alex. How to handle a guest who's been caught stealing, most likely named yadda yadda yadda. How to manage Christmas Day. How to order custom made clothes. And everyone's favorite -- How to pass the port! There's also an advanced course in "Evasive Action" which we can only imagine includes some James Bond- esque high speed car chase driving techniques.
He is also shopping around for a good butler name. Anyone have any suggestions? Current frontrunner is "Cavanaugh." A friend of ours suggested "Vulva" but there's always been something a little off with that guy.
Cavanaugh, as I'm going to call him from here on, was almost scared away from Paris by the French phrase lessons he downloaded before arriving. Aside from the mundane, "Where is the bathroom", "I would like to order a....." stuff, included inexplicably were also, "Don't shoot!" and "Those drugs aren't mine."
Strangely enough, they both came in handy during the visit. That's just the way we roll.
We ate some good food at some good restaurants which led to some good public embarrassment for this mama. Cavanaugh is a "foody" to the extreme and when his food arrives, he takes pictures of it. If he doesn't like the food, there are frowns and silence. Even worse, if he DOES like the food, he does the "happy dance" in his chair, which involves bouncing up and down and side to side. I really wish he wouldn't do that.
Other than eating, we did a lot of walking. We did the greatest hits of Paris attractions and Robert I mean Cavanaugh took pictures of every statue we passed. He also asked me a lot of questions I couldn't answer which made me realize there is too much to know about this city.
I thought everything was going well until dessert on his last night. Cavanaugh, completely unprovoked by me, I might add, hurled his camera across the table, shattering a saucer, a piece of which then lodged dangerously close to a major artery in my knuckle. He claims it was an accident and he merely dropped his camera but I'm pretty sure Cavanaugh tried to kill me. Good thing it all went down BEFORE his school, as I bet they have courses in how to kill guests, too.
So barely, just barely, I have managed to survive the recent onslaught of visitors. Next -- a week from tomorrow -- is my family! All of them! Parents, bro and sis traveling from Denver and Houston for a Parisian family reunion. I cannot express how happy I am they're coming and can't wait to sit on their laps and gaze lovingly into their faces. This may freak them out a little bit.
Ne tirez pas, mon chou!