Periodically, the Young Turkey comes home from school having learned something new. Immediately, of course, I tested. Let me tell you that I fear the test, compared to dip my interest right away given the extreme sensitivity of the subject.
- Mom, do you know Mr. Vivaldi? He made a very beautiful painting with autumn leaves! (or how to mix music at the time of relaxation just after the painter studied, namely Riopelle they imitated art on the theme of autumn leaves) (admit it throws in the kind Sherlock Holmes was the track)
- Mom, do you know Mr. Mozart? It was he who invented the chocolates eh? And you know what, he has composed music at age 6, like me (gn?) , and after he died. (future author of the History of Music's Digest)
- Do you know what's Kabinski? It is with color. (well. fast. An idea. Ski cabin? Painted all colors ?...) You know, Kabinski. (er. that sparc you not help me there too. Quick quick, other details.) No but it is with colors. (bahoui. uh. Good, and your soeu-aaaaah! You cause me Kan-din-ski right?) (Fior, honor is not)
- And what's his name already man with crazy hair and a red tie and a black vest and white shirt? (pouf ottoman. A black vest, red tie. Ringmaster? J "love" when he thinks I know exactly what he speaks. Crazy hair. Salvador Dali? (Well, what, the mustache is a form hair, as hair is a form of beard))
This I failed to guess. So I had to take my white gloves to tell him that unfortunately maybe mom was too stupid to know this gentleman, and that Didonc what you work well at school is crazy. (Thick brush to get the snake)
It was not until he was in the shower at night or while fogging the bathroom, the fog of his brain cleared, it:
- Ah Mom! I remember! That Mr. Bitouveune!
(and here you say damned, frizz, I would have guessed)
(by cons for pronunciation could use some work)
(same time, it is probably just repeating what he hears)
(we're not out of the woods I say)
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