Thursday 12 April 2012

The French Way



Pamela Druckerman's book "French Children Don't Throw Food" has caused many non-French mothers to wonder what they are doing wrong. French children, according to Druckerman, sleep through the night at two months, sit politely at the table eating the same foie gras and brains as their parents, play quietly by themselves, and never have temper tantrums.  

Seriously, French mothers (and fathers), if you can train your children so well, why can't you train yourselves to clean up after your dogs?

France is one of my favorite places in the world, but no visit is complete without having to jump over a few piles of dog merde on the sidewalks. Sometimes the stuff is not, well, solid, so you run the risk of not only stepping on it but actually slipping in it. That's no joke. Over six hundred people a year break a limb sliding on dog merde in France.

The French are justifiably considered among the most stylish in the world. Their flair for design, decor, wine and cooking is unsurpassed (except, in the view of some, by the Italians). They know just how to put themselves together in an effortlessly chic way. The scarf. The bag. The stockings of just the right color and denier. The perfectly tailored trousers. The pressed jeans. You get the picture.

In beautiful Paris, some of the over 200,000 dogs in the city are likewise well-groomed, though not well-trained. They deposit over ten tons of dog waste A DAY on city streets.

Why don't the impeccably turned out citizens clean up after their pampered pets? The French contend that their taxes pay for city street cleaners to do it. In Paris at least, there are cleaning crews that suck it up in mobile vacuums. The sidewalks are then free of land mines until the dogs are taken for their next outing. After that, watch where you walk.

While children of lesser (non-French) parents are being bribed to sit quietly in restaurants with a personal DVD to watch as they munch chicken fingers, French children are supposedly sitting quietly enjoying the same veal kidneys as their parents.

Really, French friends, if you can teach your children such fine table manners, why can't you teach your dogs not to fart in restaurants?

It tends to take away from the enjoyment of one's meal. I'd prefer not to have them growling under the table, either. Keeping them there is preferable, though, to having little Fifi, as cute as she is, perched on the banquette next to me.

Why are dogs allowed into restaurants at all?

I don't doubt Ms. Druckerman met only perfect French children being brought up by fashionable French parents. That's her experience. Some of us have seen another side as well. 

A friend and I were having lunch in South Kensington, the preferred neighborhood of the French in London. We noticed a little boy sitting quietly with his mother and her friend at an adjacent table. We wondered if it was true that those children were trained better than others. What had we done wrong in raising our own kids? That was before the little guy (quietly) sprawled on the floor, almost causing the tray-laden waitress to trip over him.

The French parents I know have all the same challenges the rest of us do: infants who don't sleep, toddlers who throw temper tantrums, kids with finicky appetites. They deal with them like everyone else, except they are usually better dressed when they do so.

In her book, Ms. Druckerman mentions the stylish French mother. She has a point. They always seem so put together. And thin! They say the secret lies in denying yourself nothing, but keeping portions small. No sweaty gyms, but lots of walking. Lots of water. Will power!

There might be another reason, too:

French mothers, if you can find the discipline to control your diets so well, why can't you find the discipline to stop smoking like chimneys?