Last week was the best and the worst. The best because my big brother and his wife were here for a visit. We talked, drank lots of wine and played lots of canasta. It was great. The worst because Boy2 had the worst case of chicken pox EVER seen by the human eye. Really. And having the chicken pox did NOT bring out the best in Boy2. At all. It was horrible.
In canasta, jokers and 2s are wild cards. They can be whatever you need them to be.
In France, being an American is my wild card. I don't use it that often, and (as in canasta) a natural is worth more. But it does come in handy sometimes. For example.
Many French mothers breastfeed. Something like 60% of newborns are breastfed and then it drops off dramatically, first at 1 month and then again at 3 months, when maternity leave ends. A few stay-at-home moms persist, most stopping by 6 months. I breastfed both of my kids until they were 2 1/2 and I did so without discretion. I didn't walk around topless, but I didn't hide their heads or my breasts with tea towels or strange clothing either. You can go topless on beaches anywhere here, there are topless women in commercials selling everything from shower gel (I get it) to yogurt (huh?), so I really didn't see the point. Occasionally I got comments. Mostly along the lines of, "Wow, you're still breastfeeding?" Or another favorite, "Don't his teeth hurt?" In the beginning, I used to launch into a lengthy explanation about WHO recommendations and statistical evidence supporting longterm breastfeeding. But that got boring (mostly for them). Finally, I just played the wild card. "I'm American." "OOOOh." Somehow, that explained it all.