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lice are back!

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The old people in front.

The life hangs by a thread really.

In front of my home, two old men, bent by a lifetime of labor in the orchards, skin tanned by the sun of Roussillon. They spend the summer before the door of their garage. There, they expose a few crates of the best fishing of their operation. Ripe peaches to perfection, sips nectar. The kind of fruit that only exist here. You've never eaten better.

On Grandpa's knee, a small white dog, while rikiki. A terrier-eyed, ugly, surly, cantankerous as a little old dog. Sometimes we walk, sometimes we caress. Sometimes it berates.

The fact is that this ugly dog is pampered. It's grandma's baby, the dog with his grandpa. Besides, they are inseparable, and my nice old opposite the lug daily by the vineyards surrounding orchards.

One evening in June, a rumor among the kids of the impasse . The little white dog is lost. At the bend of a vine, Blanco, it is called, is gone. The grandfather has yet well whistled again and again. He asked for it for hours through the green mushrooms. But he returned only this evening, late and without his dog rikiki, bewildered. Blanco poor, poor grandma, grandpa poor.

So my little old could not solve it. There they go at night, pick up their dog, whistling under the stars, traveling the roads, neighboring properties, corners that only they know. But no puppy.

few hot days go by. Children often talk about. What has become of Blanco? One imagines a spree, kidnapped by robbers, is assassinated by mastiffs, leading a life of prince in the company of a bride. I think it died of thirst.

For days, my little old busy, conducting their investigation, stick up signs, scanning the roads, moving later returned disappointed.
worse in the evening they return shot, anxious and unhappy. The granny is in shock, looks good. But his grandpa to let go. He does not smile, do not eat. That is worrying for the granny, who tells me about his ugly overcome distress. Grandpa lost his taste for life. It withers, bends every day, spends hours in his chair, staring into the void.

In the neighborhood, we say "It will pass, it would make a Because "I am myself taking the wrong position, until one day, taking the air, I witnessed a poignant scene.

On the garage door, a bumper sticker. A nice photo of the little dog ugly and short legs, a phone number. Here comes the grandpa on his porch, curved, glancing to right and left. He made some not and freezes before the placard. Now he contemplates his dog ... Considering this picture a long time. I see her eyes shine. He shakes his head slowly, with vexation. His heart is broken. It is sad and painful. It is sincere.

Sadness is a deadly poison in little old. It eats you. And one morning she takes you. Already you have to spend a nurse for blood tests, because the paper is dizzy and got a nice bump on his bald head. It is his heart, he makes his own. He will win, by force ...

From small dog, no more news. We do not seek more. The dog is lost, the grandpa will soon ...

And then one morning a heat wave, a gift. A cardboard box, landed on a car. This is a good girl, the daughter of my little old. A white dog rikiki, brand new, all beautiful, than this box. A baby spaniel. It only needed a large bow to the case.

Buried my little old? Not at all. Here he is all smiles, all gaga for this gift. It is activated as before. Life reasserts itself in two shots Canigou purred. The turbulent hairball, cagua pissing here and there, is simply to save our poor grandpa.

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Wednesdays of the 2010-2011 school year

I'm looking for Wednesdays of the school year coming animators to complete the team.

, animation motivated and invested, the owner of BAFA (with PSC1 and permits, even better!), You're welcome.

Your mission:

- supervise groups of children,

- lead in the right mood every time of day

- teamwork, respect for each

- to everything in place to ensure the physical and emotional safety of children



CAUTION: If you do not live in Lyon or its surroundings, there is no need to send me your nominations ... Send your application (CV + LM) Rachel BATTIN: rbattin@epvaldo.org

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the top of my balcony.

M a house overlooking a small green impasse in the middle of the village. No way, no cars or motorcycles. He reigns, under the linden trees, a quiet significant. It is the court of children's recreation area.

It plays a lot. Football matches high-level penalty shootout infernal games of hide and seek, traffic images Panini or Pokemon cards, racing scooters, water fights; Development potions (water, earth, herbs and secret ingredients indelible). Competitions modern Nintendo consoles.

From the first floor, I watch my little darlings. I have a view on this little theater. The human comedy There is daily. I attend bragging kids, after school reunion or for those after the holidays.

- and where were you all this time?

- At my mother, I stayed for a month.

- ah ...

I also witnessed the fights, falls (with or without dressing), ambushes, sometimes confidences.

Last year, a Sunday, or nearly deserted dead end. Two of my puppets nice drama occupied the stage. Discussion between my son Louis, just seven years and Carla, the little neighbor the same age.

Carla is a real princess. Refined to perfection, as thick as a starving sparrow, brunette with long hair, painted nails and dress that turns. Not stuck to the question savvy.

Boys, and seven years, are so stupid. It must be acknowledged. Compared to a daughter the same age there is no comparison. Louis responds to the cliché. Always a ball into the feet, knees messed by yet another fall. Jeans with holes. Louis sometimes found that girls are "zero" and are "annoying".

In the street there is always armed with a heavy gauge plastic colt, won at the fishing booth ducks.

Girls may be "null" but it does not to rub any enemy. On the contrary! Those two are assessed, chat in secret, are invited for tea, share their games. Discussion

for this Sunday then. I'm on my cape, I watch silently. Person No one sees me. I know it's wrong. But it must supervise children!

start small carousel. Louis spell deadlocked and is playing under the balconies of the lady. If possible by doing a lot of noise. The wait does not last, said the lady appears. Some greetings. Children trimbalent their toys. Balloons, pictures and gun on one side. Small plastic toys from each other. Usual palaver, it boasts more or less the latest exploits of the weekend. We agree on the day's activity, exchange of pictures, ready to console or portable video Rollers.

Everyone keeps her distance, it is always as it at first. My two little actors are directed to the floor at the time at least two meters from each other. Shyness? Maybe ... Anyway we start chatting, but from afar.

Louis is static, busy on his ball, he does more or less turn the toe. He listens to the chatter of his neighbor. The little girl twirls around in revenge! It comes and goes, made great circles around the boy. Lance laughs and calls out as she can.

As time goes by, the circle shrinks. It's like bullfighting "To shrink a little more distance, Carla shows her shoes, her new dress and her necklace. Louis gives prompt notice and evasive on the issue. Discussion and games continue.

few minutes elapse yet, little physical contact. She grabs him by the arm to say "just play the game" soon, change of activity. A small blackboard was placed near the sidewalk. It draws with chalk. Everyone knows that! Some words and other characters out of wire are scribbling by children. It erases them.

Carla grabbed a chalk drawing a big heart as wide as the array and written inside a beautiful "I LOVE YOU" . The heart is explicit, that small annoyance for Louis to get interesting, approached the table and began to slowly decipher the message. He could barely read at that time. From my side I pretend to look elsewhere.

Reading therefore, by Louis: " iiiii ..... loooovvve you. " Delivered to the French. Silence. And then the killer question:

- it does that mean?

scathing response from the small - it means I love you idiot !

is the final blow!

I then pat hand against his forehead and trying to stifle a giggle disappointed! My son, glancing toward me, peony!

Consternation. The boys, aged seven, really ...

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The martyrdom of Carrot. Slice of life of a security blanket.

C arotte is a rabbit dressed in orange pajamas shabby. Carrot was eight, he is the only rabbit which I am worried.

Carrot is THE blanket of Louis. His first, unique sound. Carrot is a martyr, a casualty of war, but without the decorations. When Carrot is lost, call the police, the police, secret services.

Today Carrot rests, he is recently retired, abandoned by his ungrateful owner. It's better like that, hard to be a security blanket worthy of the name with the guts to air, mangled arms, legs crippled. There are many surgical procedures occasional Nanny Tati, renowned seamstress in the family, the Cuddly great surgeon. But even medicine Tati Nanny can do nothing now.

Carrot has a vein not possible. One day in the Paris metro, he very nearly ending his life to found objects, saved in extremis by a superhero. And we, we almost definitely ruin our lovely holiday.

The Metro runs through Paris and did his job as a metro station to another, with us inside. Here we are, here is our station! Everybody down! Oh they are funny guys of the province with their strollers, their plan of Paris, their cameras! Here we are on the dock, just in time, already the bell rang, the doors will close, the train must leave.

Suddenly a loud cry! "HEP!" A guy throws me something, the doors to close immediately, the train leaves. In my hands, Carrot.

Whoever said that Parisians in the subway are concerned only for themselves?

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My spelling blunders ... It

Obviously I ' have few readers, I am very happy and suddenly I have a bit of pressure. Thank you for your very first comments nicer to each other. I'll have to make efforts in style, to better satisfy you. There is work ... But the immediate priority must I chase the spelling errors.


I will sift through all my notes and track them continuously. Sorry for those that I offend with my spelling blunders. To avoid the shells burst, I spend more time getting to read before my tickets online. I would, in future, save me a few extra shame.

A big thank you to Rachel, who had the friendship, patience and kindness to point out my mistakes in my last post, in a good teacher she is. Rachel, do not bother you especially!

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something happened ...

I felt Dad when I thought it was a good time to start a family. It came like that, without warning. A sudden, overwhelming. Wanting a child is already, somewhere, be a dad.

And then there's the first big shock. Two small blue bars appear in the window of a test set on the corner of a table for two minutes. The test is positive. It brings great joy, coupled with a huge slap. Now I can not go back. The process has started, any account that is more down. I'm daddy daddy ... I am ... I can not believe it. From that moment, I'm Dad.

More than eight months to prepare, six, five ... I'm the father of a boy. First electronic images of my son, stolen during an ultrasound. A face, hands, feet. It is there, right there, so near and yet so far. I feel ashamed of my eyes watching this black and white monitor in the examination room. I'm speechless. I felt father to tears of joy. I already fear for him, afraid that a small grain of sand does not come to ruin.

More than a month wait. Flow rate in the evenings kicking baby, a hiccup, a few contractions. I approach this swollen belly, stretched. I ask one ear ... nothing. I talk to him. Maybe he hears me? I'm a daddy, that's undeniable.

must go, it's time. The pain is too intense. We are afraid now. I'm scared, I hide. I have to reassure her. I repeated this point in my head hundreds of times. We must go. What will it happen now? It must come out, it will hurt, there will be blood. Everything must go it can not be otherwise. I fear for my wife, I'm afraid for my baby. I fear for my baby ... I am a dad.

ago almost twelve hours we're here. Mother Nature is in control, tyrannical. A working room, then another one where my wife will give life. Machinery, piping, alarms, green smocks. Waiting ... waiting Curious. In a moment we'll be three. Three of us.

Here and there other birth mothers. We hear it all! Screams, groans, loud voices. A crying baby, then another. In these places, life is his work. Each of these babies first cry of foreigners missing to make me cry ... I prances. I'll be a dad, I'll be a dad ... oh my ... What is happening to me?

is ours. Women in green smocks busy. This small and must leave it eradicates the belly of my wife. It's long, it's violent, it does not say it enough. My wife is fighting, is a smile and returned to combat. She wins.

It's just there. The top of his head, then his whole head, shoulder .... my son is there, between two worlds, and that the expulsion ..... I'm Dad, look! Look! It is here! He looks! He .... My eyes are full of water and runny nose. I stifle a sob as I can. I'm a daddy ..... and already I am pleased. "Look sir, as your beautiful little boy."

Watch ... I do it, I can not take off my eyes of that little. I turn my head to Mom, we exchange a glance, a smile. The green coats are still working, it's not quite finished for Mom. The delivery room is a battlefield, everything is upside down. There is blood, but I do not see much, if not my family, I can say it now, my family. I'm Dad.

I'm a daddy ...? Not quite. Something is missing. It's a secret, a secret dad. A discovery that no book speaks. It will be something going on ... it's not over, and it has not yet begun. It will be something going on ... and at this moment, I am father.

The silence in the delivery room. The gowns are green parts, the machines are down. We are three. The three of us, alone at last, we whisper, as stunned by what just happened. Tender words ... kisses. We contemplate. It will happen ... something

My son is stunned as we are, it seems stunned. Eyes wide open, quiet, he is watching us. Who says baby can not see anything? We fixed her eyes, stares at us. Eye to eye. It will happen ... something

I bend gently toward the little man. Close enough ... He watches me. Now his eyes and mine are connected. Time stops.

Through our eyes, we talk, it's hard to describe. I know he knows. He knows I am a part of him and a part of me. I feel he knows. It just happened something ... He just told me "I know you're my father, I'm staring into his eyes for you serve it." Magic moment, seize the fly. It's a secret, a secret dad ...

It Something happened ... I'm your daddy, now.