"This is the color red." your father, the country of France, said.
The two of you sat in the garden behind the giant mansion you called home. You sat criss-cross-applesauce in the sweet-smelling grass, while France sat on a pretty marble bench. You dug your nails into the dirt, becoming impatient with learning the colors of the rainbow.
"Red." You repeated, forming the English word with little effort. "Papa? Why do I have to learn English and French?"
France smiled at your question, not a friendly one either. "Ever since that black sheep of Europe's language spread, many people have to learn it now."
France took one look at your filthy nails. "Oui." He said. "You need to keep these clean! With a father as beautiful as me, it'd be a disgrace to the Bonnefoy name to have such dirty nails!"
You sat there for a second "Can we continue the color learning?" you murmured.
Your father nodded and held up a sunflower. He pulled of a single petal. "Yellow." He stated.
.. Mr. Russia's gonna get mad at yoooou!!" you whined.
"Ohonhonhonhon!" France laughed. "He'll never find out!!"
"Then how come I can hear Ms. Ukraine nearby? And Ms. Belarus chanting marry me? And Mr. Russia going kolkolkolkol?" you countered innocently. "Why Papa?"
.. Let's go inside now." France replied.
"Yay! No more flowers! Let's go eat some food!" you cheered.
"First, we're getting that dirt out of your nails."