Free French Twist by Catherine Crawford

irrational. As parents, our job is not only to give them a good sense of morals but also to teach them how to do things correctly—from getting dressed, to eating properly, to respecting adults, and everything in between. My cousin’s son used to like to pretend he was a dog. It was in this role that his mother had the most luck getting him to eat any vegetables, so she would often feed him the more “challenging” dinners via a bowl on the ground. She rationalized further by telling us how “imaginative” he was. Now, however, at five and a half, he’s still not big on the ol’ knife and fork. I like to imagine him at his first power lunch, howling at the moon, rib eye remains splattered on his face. For now, the family can’t eat out in a restaurant without some kind of shame, given the manners displayed at the table.
    French table manners will get their due ink soon enough, but let me explain a bit about what is expected of French children in other areas of etiquette. I was floored when I went to France and was repeatedly greeted by thechildren of friends, acquaintances, even interview subjects I’d just met, with immediate alternate-side cheek kisses. Never was a child allowed to look past me or, God forbid, scowl at the American stranger. And nine times out of ten, they didn’t need a reminder from their vigilant parents to carry out these warm salutations.
    The whole of French society is very polite, and it is considered very rude for a person of any age to enter (
Bonjour!
) or leave (
Bonne journée!
) a store in France without hailing the shopkeeper. The amount of
merci
s and
pardonnez-mois
going down at a given time is staggering as well. It is gorgeous to behold.
    Witnessing this, of course, conjured up images of my own kids back in the States. For instance, they have both lived in the same apartment since birth, yet they still habitually shrink from or, at best, ignore certain older neighbors. It is always humiliating—and we can do better. When I began this adventure, I simply insisted on a change with this speech (or one very similar): “Guys, children must
always
show respect for grown-ups—especially those they know, like our neighbors or Mommy and Daddy’s friends. We have a new rule, which is that you are required to say hello to a grown-up you know, especially when they greet you first. It will make you, me, and the grown-ups happy. If I see that you are not doing this, there will be a punishment.”
    What happens when they don’t comply? So far I haven’t had to invent the punishment, but I’ll never forget the long faces of a couple of French kids I know here in the UnitedStates when I saw them in the neighborhood one fall afternoon. When I asked why they looked soooo sad, I learned that their mother had taken away their Halloween candy for three weeks because they failed to say hello to an elderly woman from the neighborhood. Dang, that’s harsh. But I can only assume that they didn’t do it again.
    Manners and respect are consummately linked for the French, so I tried to go deep with the respect at the same time—especially with Oona, who has a habit of condescending to adults. Two words, darling: not French. But it can be tricky, like when she informed the cigarette-wielding grandfather of one of her friends, “You know, smoking is very bad. It will make you die. You should not do it anymore.” I was caught somewhere between horror that my kid was attempting to reprimand a human at least twelve times her age and relief that I had got the message across. Still, it is not her place to speak like this to a grown-up, especially an elderly one. This has also come out in Oona’s blossoming environmentalism. When she sees someone leave trash behind, her instinct is to yell, “Don’t litter!” I do not want to squelch her green streak or give her the impression that it is, indeed, okay to trash the planet, so I have instructed her—especially if the offender is old enough to be her