{"id":53,"date":"2022-01-13T03:53:08","date_gmt":"2022-01-13T03:53:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dadlib.ca\/?p=53"},"modified":"2022-03-09T09:41:29","modified_gmt":"2022-03-09T16:41:29","slug":"lullabies-i-need-to-stop-singing-my-kid","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dadlib.ca\/?p=53","title":{"rendered":"Lullabies I need to stop singing my kid"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Pierrot doesn’t know what he’s missing<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
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I sing to my kid a lot. We’ve cut the number of lullabies each night to four, but over the course of a month that’s still a lot of repetitions of “Baby Beluga”. Sometimes you just need to mix it up a bit, you know? So every now and then I reach into the grab bag and pull out anything from Gregorian chant to Leonard Cohen. Prominently featured are a bunch of French songs that I love\u2014getting him ready for French immersion, forming all those fancy neural connections, etc etc.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

But now that he’s actually learning some French, it dawns on me that there are a few songs that need to go on hiatus for a little while. I’m not singing him anything profanity-ridden or nightmare-inducing, but a few of these might prompt the kinds of questions that tend to completely derail bedtime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Good night, sleep tight, don’t be kept awake by the thought of a rabid rodent’s bite<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

1. Une souris verte<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

A fun French folk song, I love it, but I can’t see him falling asleep to this one if he understood the words. In case you don’t know it, here’s a rough translation:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A green mouse was running in the grass
I caught it by the tail
I showed it to these gentlemen
These gentlemen said to me:
Dip it in some oil
Dip it in some water
It will become a nice, warm snail<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

To this point it’s not the weirdest nursery rhyme I’ve encountered\u2014no cradles falling out of trees or egg-men off of walls\u2014and I don’t think it would influence my kid into trying any home-brew mouse-to-snail alchemy. Unless we’re talking about the dish, and they’re drenched in warm garlic butter, then he can make me that anytime he wants. Just not with mice. Maybe we’ll order in tonight. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I put it in my hat
It said it was too hot
I put it in my drawer
It said it was too dark
I put it in my panties
It made me three little poops
I put it in my hand
It said that was very good<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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I’m not going to Google “mouse droppings in panties image” lest I see weird ads for the next year. Instead, enjoy this picture of a kitten.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

The word I’m translating as “panties” (“culotte”) has changed its meaning since the nursery rhyme came to be\u2014way back when, it meant pants or breeches. But either way, let’s not go glorifying the storage of found rodents in any kind of lower body garment. And if a mouse poops in your pants, you don’t cuddle the mouse and ask it how it’s doing, I want those panties in the washing machine right now and you wash your hands with soap, mister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

2. Belle<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Notre Dame de Paris<\/em> is my favorite musical of all time, so naturally one or two numbers find their way into the sleepytime repertoire. Belle<\/em> is a gorgeous number sung by Quasimodo, Frollo and Phoebus as they all love\/long\/lust after Esm\u00e9ralda. If you haven’t heard it, make some time and find it on YouTube, it’s worth it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, I’d rather not explain some of these turns of phrase quite yet. We start with Quasimodo, who’s feeling guilty for having undressed her with his eyes. Despite wanting to run his fingers through her hair (ick) he will somehow turn out to be the least creepy of the three. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Belle [beautiful]
It’s a word that seems to have been invented for her
When she dances and reveals her body to the day
Like a bird spreading its wings to fly away
Then, I feel Hell open up under my feet
I let my eyes rest on what’s under her dress
What good does it do me to pray to Our Lady any more?
The one who would cast the first stone at her\u2014
That one doesn’t deserve to be on this earth
O Lucifer, O let me just once
Slide my fingers through Esmeralda’s hair<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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Oh god swipe left SWIPE LEFT<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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Fine, the guy has really only talked to one person his whole life and is lacking in the social graces, though he needs to keep his fingers to himself. I’ll cut him a little slack, but I hope the kid forgets about praying to Lucifer before tomorrow’s bedtime. We move on to the archdeacon of Notre Dame, Frollo: <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Belle
Is this the Devil made incarnate in her
To turn my eyes away from the eternal God?
Who put this carnal desire in my heart
To prevent me from looking up toward heaven?
She carries original sin in her\u2014
Does desiring her make me a criminal?
She, who I considered a whore, a nobody,
Suddenly seems to bear the cross of the whole human race.
O, Our Lady, let me just once
Push open Esmeralda’s garden gate<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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This is Frollo in a woodcut from the original book, and those are Frollo’s bedroom eyes.<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

“Daddy, what’s a girl’s garden gate?”
“Go to sleep, son.”
Seriously, Frollo, you really should have dealt with these issues prior to ordination. Also, she’s sixteen and you’re gross.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now Phoebus, Captain of the King’s Archers, who is engaged to Fleur-de-Lys, decides that “engaged ain’t married” and that it would be a good idea to set up a little rendezvous with Esmeralda:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Belle
Despite her big black eyes that bewitch you
Could this young lady still be a virgin?
When her movements make me see mountains and marvels
Underneath her rainbow-coloured skirt
My darling, let me be unfaithful to you
Before taking you all the way to the altar
Who is the man who would turn his gaze away from her
On penalty of being turned into a pillar of salt?
O, Fleur-de-Lys, I am not a faithful man
I will go pluck Esmeralda’s flower of love<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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“And here we have Phoebus, rocking one of the season’s hottest military floral sundresses.”<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

“Daddy, what’s a flower of lo\u2014”
“I said go to sleep.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

3. Au clair de la lune<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

What could possibly be wrong with this beloved classic folk song, widely known throughout the world? I played it on the xylophone for my grade three talent show, for goodness sake. Nothing wrong with it at all, until one day you decide that it would be nice to learn all the verses so that you have a better chance of your kid drifting off before you run out of words. Verse one means something like this:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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I don’t lend my pens anymore since I lost my best swan pen, now I’m stuck writing with seagull.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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By the light of the moon, my friend Pierrot:
Lend me your pen so I can write a message
My candle has died; I have no more fire
Open your door to me, for the love of God!<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Some friend, Pierrot doesn’t want to get out of bed to answer the door. Maybe he’s just one of those people that hates lending out a pen because you never get it back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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By the light of the moon, Pierrot answered:
I don’t have a pen. I’m in my bed.
Go to the neighbour’s house, I think she’s home
Because there are sparks flying in the kitchen.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Hey, this gives me a great idea for a dating app! I think I’ll call it… “Kindling” (photo: Tim McCormack, CC BY-SA 3.0<\/a>)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

It’s hard to render that last line in English. What’s happening in the kitchen: “on bat le briquet”\u2014literally, somebody’s striking flint with a stone to make a spark, presumably to light the stove. But it also has the figurative meaning of really hitting it off, say on a first date that’s going really well. And back when this text was written, it generally referred to what happens on a first date that’s going REALLY well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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see also: Frollo, bedroom eyes of<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
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By the light of the moon, the amiable Lubin
Knocks on the brunette’s door. She answers suddenly:
Who’s knocking like that? He says in turn:
Open your door, for the god of love!<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

I’m not going to confess how long I spent trying to find what “Lubin” actually means. In a nutshell: there’s a poem by a sixteenth-century French poet (Cl\u00e9ment Marot) about the Good Friar Lubin who is good at lying, cheating, drinking and seducing and very bad at not doing those things. The folk song is from the eighteenth century, so Lubin may have been a bit more present in the zeitgeist than he is today. I do like how the last line of the first verse gets flipped around here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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By the light of the moon, you can’t see very much
They were trying to find a pen, they were trying to find some fire
In all of their searching, I’m not sure what they found
I just know that the door closed behind them.<\/p><\/blockquote><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Pierrot really doesn’t get enough credit for being an excellent wingman<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Actually, I’m probably good to keep this one in the rotation for a little while. He’ll probably just assume they were going in to play some Nintendo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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