Meet my family: Loic

Loic would like nothing more than to play soccer all day. I showed him the ball I brought the fourth day I was here, and since then, he and that blue ball have been best friends. Usually, I am woken up from my naps by the thump of Loic kicking the ball against the concrete wall that surrounds the back garden.

After it’s too dark to play outside, he is poised in front of the computer playing virtual soccer. He pauses only when it’s time for his favorite American TV show on Wednesday nights, Dirty Sexy Money.

That he has a sister from the US who has heard of Ronaldo and Messi is a point of pride for him.

Loic, at 11, is still in that age range when he can cut through tension and bad days simply by being himself. He doesn’t understand why but he comprehends that there are few things that make me laugh like when he runs down the hallway yelling that he is “the boss.”

In the past days, my family has become significantly invested in improving my comprehension of French. Loic, more than anyone else, has taken it upon himself to happily correct my every misspelling and incorrect choice of helping verb with the past participle.

He can also be easily recruited to listen to my Missouri pronunciation of French words. Once I got over the idea that a boy whose voice still hasn’t changed yet is more of a grammarian than I am currently, Loic is a great teacher.

I hear he is the boss.