Zut alors!

A strange and mysterious email arrived for Older Child that began, “Bonjour!” at which, of course, my heart jumped. It continued, in English, “As you know Marking Period 3 ends today but I am happy to correct any work that arrives… blah blah blah boring academic logistical information…blah blah blah…”

The mystery being, of course, that Older Child does not study French. Older Child studies German, and Mrs. German (sorry, Frau German ((sorry, Frau Deutsch)) ) has kindly and steadily been in touch throughout this whole online learning debacle (sorry, Debakel), so we are all set, thank you very much, regarding our language needs at this time. Although the current situation (momentane Situation) would seem to indicate that no one will be going anywhere ever again and therefore won’t need any languages other than whatever the good folks at Amazon decide on. *fingers crossed* English English English

So why the mysterious message from Mrs. French? (Sorry, Mme. Française.) Pulled Husband aside and asked under my breath whether he thought there was any possibility that Napoleon was trying to contact me via the local high school French teacher. Never got an answer because at that moment, through weirdly timed coincidence, Husband was seized by some sort of laughing paroxysm (or as the French would so eloquently put it, paroxysme, or the Germans less eloquently, Anfall). Must ask him later what on earth was the matter. I swear, lockdown is slowly but surely driving Husband insane, or “le rendant fou,” as Napoleon might have put it.

Then pulled Older Child aside in re: mysterious email, but before I had the chance to put forth my theory, he explained all: Mme. Française is his study hall teacher and must have confused her class lists.

Me, speaking with admirable calm: Oh. That’s probably more likely it.

Older Child: More likely than what?

Me, cleverly: More likely what than what?

Older Child: Huh?

Me: Are you feeling well? Maybe you should go lie down. You and your brother. Quietly. For the rest of the day.

So that’s that. Occam’s Razor, and all that.

BRRRRTZZZZZZRRZZZT