a day like today

Jack and Henry run to the swings first. "Bob the Builder, can he fix it? Yes he CAN!" They sing, so loudly that they don't hear when I tell them it's "Bob le Bricoleur..." They tell me to push them, but I don't because they can go themselves, and Juliette wants me to lift her so she can see the chickens. "Bonjour les poules," she says as we watch the chickens cluck, flap their wings, and waddle aimlessly. Pierre bought a rooster and it won't stop cocka-doodle-dooing. "Push me Kendra!" Jack cries. I tell him to say S'il te plait, and he does. With a perfect accent even. So, I push him as high as the swing goes, and sit down on the bench. Then it's Henry, then Jack again. "S'il te plait will you push me?" I tell them no. "je ne vais pas vous pousser toute la journee!" And so it goes.
I sit down on the bench and watch as Delphine sends a toy dump truck down the slide. "Delphine, on ne met pas de jouets dans le toboggan." Elle descend and retrieves the dump truck from where it has landed in a heap with other toys. She comes to me, her purple hood pulled tight. "kendra, je veux faire papillon." She wants to go butterfly on the swing. By now, Jack and Henry are busliy digging a hole beneath the wood chips, and even though Pierre would have a fit if he saw them doing it, I let it go. They're only digging a hole, after all. I plop Delphine on my lap so that she is facing me; her legs going opposite mine. We look like a butterfly. A papillon. We start swinging and Delphine tells me we're flying. Comme un papillon. She would do this all day if she could, but she can't because Juliette wants a turn. "Moi aussi, je veux faire papillon, " she tells me. I trade Delphine for Juliette and start flying again. But Juliette seems to think we're fairies because she asks me to sing the fairy song. And so, I do. "White choral bells upon a slender stock..." "Encore," she says. But, that is enough, I tell her. "The bunny song, then?" She thinks I am a jukebox.
I get off the swing and take a sip of my cooling coffee. "Tu bois du cafe?" Juliette asks. "oui." She wants to see it and I tell her it's just coffee. But she really wants to see it, or drink it, I'm not sure which, so I take the lid off and she sticks her nose inside. Smells. "Pourquoi?" "Why do I drink it, you mean?" "Because I like it. "Mon papa, il aime ca." She points to my coffee. "Your dad likes coffee hhuh?" "oui, il aime ca." This is important stuff, I guess, because Juliette launches into narration mode as she tells me everything her dad likes to eat. Les tomates, le fromage, the list goes on. I listen intently because I can't get enough of this 3-year old French littered with hand gestures and commes ca(s).