Mon pauvre petit bonhomme.
My poor little boy… you have no idea how difficult it is for him to go to school! Not that he does not like it at all. He has fun, he draws, plays outside, even eats over there (well actually not this week, he does not want to eat there, he wants to eat with his mom). But leaving the house, his home, his parents, his sister, his safety world, it is tough for a little boy. I love to go pick him up, all the kids are seating in the classroom, checking at the entrance door after their mums to arrive. His smiling face, his arms around him, almost struggling me:
« Mamaaaan, tu es venue me chercher »
and he is repeating (all day long):
« Tu viens me chercher???!! Tu es venue me chercher! Faut pas pleurer, hein maman, faut pas pleurer » (You come get me ???!! You came to take me! I should not cry, huh Mom, I should not cry)
But this morning, we went just the two of us. He wanted to take his biberon and I told him he could not, so he asked to go. And in the lift he was looking at the floor, desperately holding back his tears probably thinking « faut pas pleurer, hein maman, faut pas pleurer… » So I took up him in my arms up to the car. We went to school, to his classroom, he was still holding back his tears. I said goodbye to him « allez bonhomme on se voit toute à l’heure » (come on little man we’ll see each other really soon). He said goodbye through the window, put his bag on the table where all the kids leave their backpacks and dryed his tears.
Mon pauvre bonhomme…
I came back at home, and I prepared that cake thinking about my little boy, mon bonhomme. I should have wait to bake it with him. He loves baking, adding the flour, sugar, breaking the eggs, grabbing some butter with his finger « attends je goute, juste une fois » (wait I taste, only once!…but he always taste more than once). The cake was baked, it cooked, Joséphine was taking her lunch, the phone rang: « you have to come pick up Giacomo, he does not want to eat at school, he is desperately asking after you ».