“My mother wears underwear three months a year….

…and sometimes in September.”

I am sitting in the kitchen, chatting away rather comfortably (I think) in French to Ludo’s parents. And I see the quizzical looks on their faces. Just fleetingly, but enough that I question my choice of the word “culotte”.  I was telling them that the Yukon is quite warm in June, July, and August. And sometimes, it is warm enough in September to wear shorts.

I glance sideways at Ludo. “Les culottes?” I ask, looking for help. “You know, les pantalons coupées.”

“Ah,” he nods knowingly, “Les shorts.”