It's Me, Sara Louise

You know how I’m always going on about The Husband’s Gallic huffing and puffing, and how it doesn’t take much to set it off.

Like how he huffs at the grocery store or when doing anything he doesn’t like or when he has to wait even the slightest amount of time for something (patience is not his virtue). And when we flew to the states the whole journey was basically one big huff and puff.

Well according to him, it’s not his fault.

The Husband phoned me from work this morning after hearing something on the radio. Someone actually took the time to study huffing and puffing in different cultures.

Amazing.

 “It’s not my fault I’m puffing.” (his English sentence structure, not mine)

“Really, why is that?”

“France are the biggest puffers in the world.” (again, I’m quoting him)

“I’m not surprised.”

“And the second, Italy. You see, it’s not my fault I’m puffing.” (It really is adorable, isn’t it?)

The Husband is half French and has one Italian grandmother so I guess he has an excuse now, he’s genetically predisposed to it. 

bisou