"Mommy, why does Kristi call Max Honey? Why doesn't she call him Peanut-Butter?" Sacha asked when he was three.
Some of the terms of endearment in French I don't mind: Mon petit Coeur de sucre (my little sugar heart,) mon Tresor (my treasure,) or ma belle (my beautiful.) But being called ma puce (my little flea) or ma bichette (my little goat) or ma petite crotte (My Little Poop! A very affectionate term, don't you think?) Or mon chou (my cabbage) doesn't ring my bell.
Peanut butter doesn't sound that bad when you think of it. Well, as long as it isn't chunky.
When French husband was seven, he would hold the chimney broomstick as a microphone and sing "Que Je T'aime" by Johnny Hallyday" (A French Elvis.) He told me, "I loved that song, and I sang it all day. Johnny was screaming his love for a girl…and God, it ripped my heart open every time!"
I would have loved to have met my French Husband when he was seven.
"Ah ma moitie of a peanut butter et miel tartine! (My half of a peanut butter and honey sandwich, in Franglais.) Sing me Que Je T'aime!"
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