At the beginning of the school holidays, the boys and I take the train to see their grandmothers. The older one is slightly unbearable.
– Dad, are we there?
– No, I told you, we’re going to Bordeaux. Now they’re not announcing Bordeaux. So we’re not there yet.
– … and now, are we there?
I’m breaking down:
Stop, no more. Stop. What have I told you ten times since we left?
He pondered for a second and began to list on his fingers:
Stop screaming, stop being mean to my brother, stop talking, stop lying on him, stop getting my glasses dirty, stop getting into people’s private space, stop saying dirty words, say hello to people who say hello to me…
The whole wagon: