A Language Lesson from Martine à la Ferme

After Emilia was born, I had grand plans for her to be multi-lingual by the age of five.  (Laugh as much as you'd like, but I was actually quite serious about it.)  I bought language cds (in both French and Spanish) that I would put on for her all the time — in the car, while she was in her swing, in her bouncy seat, wherever.  In fact, her 'language lesson', as I referred to it, was an excellent way for me to be able to take a shower in the morning.

Anyway, I also found these fabulous (and quite sturdy) little flash cards (in both French and Spanish) that we would play with from time to time.  Well, that she would chew on, more like, from time to time...  (Although my Spanish vocabulary has grown exponentially since I first looked at them.)  Nowadays they can usually be found at the bottom of her toy bin.

Oh, and then the books — I also got her several books (in both French and Spanish), including, Buenos Dias, Baby and Martine à la Ferme.  I have read these books to Emilia over and over for the past two years, and she has always loved the 'Bonjour Médor!' part of Martine the best.  However, as we sat reading before her nap this afternoon, Emilia began to quote a good chunk of Martine right after we'd finished with it.  (I know I've said it before, but this girl is quite the mimic.)  Half of me was rather impressed, while the other half was mortified and wanted to rush out and bury the book in the backyard immediately.  Because despite my many years (ago) of studying French, I've always had a bit of a complex as far as my accent is concerned.  And rightly so — it is atrocious.

Have you ever seen that bit in the movie Je t'aime Paris?  You know, where the postal worker from Denver is reading her postcard aloud in her head while walking all throughout Paris?  Well, that is me.  Mortifyingly me.  Or, at least I think it is anyway — which amounts to the same thing.  And so, because of this, I am thinking it may be best if we stop with Martine altogether.  Or maybe, we should just skip the French and look at it for the pictures.  If Emilia is going to grow up mangling languages, I'd rather she do this in her own right, and not because her mama instilled an appalling accent into her little head before she is even out of diapers.  I mean, really. 

Instead it may be a better idea to just get really rich so we can send her (and me) to lessons (in both French and Spanish) where she can learn herself a right-proper accent.  Not now though because I've poked around a bit and the prices I've seen are almost as appalling as my accent.  Why is it always so expensive to be so fancy?** C'est incroyable!

**Speaking more than one language is not, in fact, fancy.  It's smart.  Besides that, we could really use Emilia to be our translator down the road when we go to buy our flat in Madrid.  Or Barcelona.  Or somewhere in the Andalusia.  Or France.  I'm not that picky, when it all comes down to it.