It’s a weeknight like many others: I have to make dinner and they have to do their business.
In other words, the big sister settles down to do her homework and the youngest decrees about her day of kindergarten while watching Ninjago. Obviously my son is addicted to this show and at this time he is entitled to a microdose.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen:
—Mom, do you remember when you explained to me what hypersensitivity was?
– Yes of course !
— Well, when we listened to the song in class today, Romy was crying.
— I understand… I cry too when listening to certain songs.
— That’s when I understood that she’s my most hypersensitive friend.
(By the way, would you mind if I put on our Ortographie-o-ton song?)
That night, America cries, we listened to it almost ten times in a row as a family. Without a TV on. Happiness. With on the table, the phone which plays the video clip, the lyrics, and then the list of words of the week to learn, taken from the song composed by Jean-François Pauzé…
Mirror
Suffering
Excess
Countryside
Carelessness
Landscape
Hypocrisy…
The words were well acquired, but our unlocked hearts still wanted to hear.
That’s when we talked about Papi who is a truck driver. Sad people we don’t know. Of freedom. About the intensity with which we want to live our life, or not.
We watched the music video for The end of the show. On the computer, so that the images are larger. Stuck and without saying a word; the most important ones were in the song, and sometimes even written on the screen.
We talked about the concerts we saw. From my memories, both so clear and so distant, of Cowboys Fringants shows, with everyone knowing the songs by heart, even twenty years ago. Of the beauty of Quebecois expressions also sung by French, Belgians, French-speakers from the other side of the ocean.
We ended — before returning to homework — with the video of Karl who, last fall, put all the effort and heart into recording his track on The end of the show in the studio. No stage, no audience, he is surrounded by his friends, and we only hear his voice, bringing Jean-François’ words to life, without hearing the instruments which will also make up the song. An indirect way of showing children the essence and power of words, even if the instruments also contribute to the evacuation of our tears (of joy, of relief).
***
Back to the Spelling-o-ton song!
— And there, loves, I hope you recognize the instrument!
— Honestly, mom. Harmonica. You’ve made us play enough Bob Dylan!
(Laughs.)
— OK OK… I have a better question. You said that America cries made you discover something about your friend Romy. Did it teach you anything about yourself?
— Hmm. Yes. That I don’t have enough Quebec songs on my playlists. That I love it so much, deep down. I just need to hear them.
***
Saturday morning in the alley.
I thought that the week full of words to learn, emotions and new musicals that stir more than others was over.
Every year, on the first weekend in May, all the neighbors in our alley in Rosemont pitch in to do the major cleaning of our common space: sweep up the small rocks that risk getting into the wheels of the car. rollerbladepick up abandoned brown autumn remains, rake the small spaces of soil that will flower.
Parents drink coffee, pre-teens watch the kids, kids run around in their pajamas and invent treasures.
My little ninja comes to see me only once during the chore:
” Mummy mummy ! It’s the month of May! And it’s like in the song by Félix Leclerc, that Madame Julie makes us sing! »
My neighbor Philippe starts humming The hymn to spring sticking his chin out over his fence. Our sons who are together in kindergarten get out of their way and sing with him.
“The buds emerge from death / Butterflies have coats of gold / Near the stream the fairies are lined up / And the toads sing of freedom. »
*I dedicate this column to my children’s teachers, Madame Isabelle (6e year), as well as Mrs. Julie (kindergarten). Thank you for playing Quebec songs in your classes. And for everything else, of course.