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Priscilla, remind me. What's today?

- Thursday. - What happens Thursday afternoons?

We go home.

We can if we want to,

but for most of us it's the day we...

we...

we go... - To press.

What's Aleksandra's job?

Editor-in-chief.

Is now the right time to ask

if, during a photo shoot she probably won't attend,

she wants veal or monkfish on her lunch platter?

- I do what I'm asked. - Whatever.

Should I ask her?

100% cashmere

No.

No.

Yeah...

Ugly.

Not bad.

Pretty.

No good.

Nothing else? - No, this is it.

Let's try this face

with that body... and this bag.

"Is it girly to be early?" Jean-François' article?

Nice! Who found the title?

You.

Sorry.

"Blue, the new red."

We did it before. - No, first time.

Are you sure?

We did "Khaki, the new black".

Of course, "Red, the new white".

And totally different: "Polka dots, tomorrow's stripes."

Go with it then.

No, you've had enough. Get going.

Know what she said?

It's unbelievable.

"I really blew the big one."

"I really blew the big one."

No clue?

Jeez...

Oh yeah...

Yuck.

The world's best photographer calls to accept a 24-page spread in September

and she says nothing.

To no one.

After a week goes by, he calls back

and she says,

"I really blew the big one."

When is dinner?

Nine.

At least she reads Elle!

- Meaning? - It's 8:10.

"Is it girly to be early?"

Shit...

No babysitter available.

Take that off.

She doesn't realize we get 200 resumes a day

from girls much smarter and nicer

who don't blow the big one.

Tell her.

I'll get it.

We get 200 resumes a day from smarter girls

who work without blowing the big one!

And your work hours, 10:30 to 4:20.

Minus a 2-hour lunch, you're here 4 hours a day.

In three years you've never read a single issue.

If only to avoid screwing us all up.

You know what will happen?

You'll be blowing the big one alone at home.

No blowing here. Yuck.

Millions of women adore us

and not one of them...

not one would buy this magazine

with your fat face on it

if photographers and models bailed because you blew the big one.

At least I know there's no smoking here since January 2007.

I leave my window open.

No animals allowed either in the workplace.

The what place?

- The work place. - Oh, okay...

I don't believe it!

Last Monday's sashimi? You're gross.

Not gross. Grody.

I love how you say grody.

Say grody.

Grody.

No, in a sentence.

Aren't you ashamed? It's so grody!

Better.

I have to go.

Nannies awaiting.

Come on, try harder.

Go on. - So...

Go on...

Nadine came by for the sweater she'd left.

Hubert was asleep on a quiche,

the acrid odor of which wafted toward her.

"Nothing doing. Grody guy." And she left.

How's that? - Not bad.

Besides the names.

Beat it, 100% Cashmere.

Say hi to your spouse.

Aleks...

who are those senior models?

Another "Older is Better" issue?

Not models. Nannies. I'm auditioning them here.

You want a granny, not a nanny.

I won't leave Cyrille a 19-year-old when I travel.

Indeed. "Good in Bed? Plan Ahead!"

You speak Russian?

Yes... or I wouldn't have come.

Fluent English.

And for the house staff, I get by in Arabic.

30 years of vacations in Marrakesh.

I knit. I'll make socks for everyone.

Great.

I've always loved babies... and dogs.

Can you start next month?

Sorry to pry but... you're delivering in a month?

No, not at all. We're adopting.

Okay, I see. How old is the child?

Seven.

Five?

Seven.

That's old.

Show here again.

Mom, don't say "show here".

Can I see my grandson?

Here.

Isn't he fat for an orphan?

Eliette!

You two are so damned lucky!

You don't realize.

Gaby waited three years for his daughter.

That's long.

Poor thing. She's cute...

but one short leg. When she's 16...

Seriously...

you're lucky. He could have been black.

Come on, I'm not racist.

Look.

Why not give him a nice French name?

"Jerôme"... It's cute.

Suits you too.

"Cinnamon" doesn't suit me!

We used lots of it then.

His name is Alekseï, with a K, like Aleksandra.

Like I said, she's lucky!

Not pointy shoes. They'll scare him off.

Don't dress preppy with a headband and kilt.

He'll get confused seeing you smoking in jeans.

First time ever I don't know what to wear.

If I could have had a real one... you know...

you wouldn't have gone shopping at Brooks Brothers.

- No. - So why now?

Because maybe he won't want me.

No way. Not in a million years.

Come here, Mommy.

Come on, baby. - That's better.

Bad start.

I'm so happy.

Since we visited her, we Skype every day.

Her brothers,

Etienne from Burkina Faso

and Brice from Mozambique.

This is the mommy of...

Alekseï.

Say hi to Alekseï's mommy.

We changed their names. Do it.

It's easier.

Why didn't you visit him in Russia?

I thought you had to.

I'd like to speak to Anne and Stéphane Fournier,

the parents of Bronislav or Lucas.

Here we are.

I'm sorry. I couldn't warn you.

Bronislav, I mean Lucas,

isn't on the plane.

At the last minute, he refused to leave.

We never force children to come.

I can't believe it. We phoned him last Tuesday.

Will we get another?

Not on this flight, no.

It's them! They're here!

Jade!

My princess, my baby doll...

So pretty, my love!

I'm your Mommy.

Flight OA 418?

See you at your place, honey.

- Where from? - Cracow.

- Did flight 408 land? - No idea.

It's too much.

Your intention please...

"Attention".

Future parents in the France-Russia association,

the flight is 90 minutes late.

You can take a walk,

but not too far.

There is a snack bar

just across from us

or a "Starbuque" café

near gate F.

Plenty of time for juice.

Juice? How depressing.

- Don't start. - Go back home.

You'll be sad seeing them arrive.

It's a long way to Colmar.

We'll work on a solution tomorrow.

Let's get together with our munchkins.

When we take Anaïs to a museum, you and Alekseï can come along.

Great.

Because he's 7, like us.

I mean... like her.

I'll take your email.

- Cyrille-- - Wait.

No problem.

Okay, go on.

Cyrille, double L.

...dot Cohen.

Spell it?

Like Albert.

Or Leonard.

C-o-h-e-n...

at...

...gallery cbc, all in one word...

dot fr.

- Dot com. - No, dot fr.

You're right. Dot com.

I'm hungry.

We have surimi.

Nothing fancy but it hits the spot.

Take it out.

Thanks.

No thank you.

Really?

Honey?

Sure, why not?

Good, isn't it?

This is crazy.

Crazy like that ass who said "Starbuque".

I eat rotten surimi and you puke.

It's awful.

I reek of vomit the first time I meet my son.

It'll be fine.

45 minutes to clean up.

With your Gold Card, we can use the lounge.

Showers, towels, good food...

You know... if the ass isn't to your liking,

I know a couple without a Gold Card,

but they'd come back if I said that finally

we found them a boy. Your name?

Cohen.

Cohen-Lefoulon. Rue de Bellechasse. Paris.

That's it.

Pretty quick approval. Get strings pulled?

Not at all.

Strange.

I'll investigate.

Can you leave? I'm changing her diaper.

String-puller, high tax bracket,

pedophile... That's a lot.

Pedophile? Are you crazy?

How dare you insinuate that?

My husband's here because I'm sick, not to stare at diapers.

We're rich. We have a Gold Card. We had strings pulled.

So go investigate.

Call the Colmar couple.

If you do, I'll tell the cops how any old pedophile

can pay to get a kid in three months.

Goodbye.

Here is Anaïs.

Mommy learned Russian for you.

Now we'll take the car.

- The red one. - No, the blue.

No, he got taller.

And thinner. Let me see.

It's neither of them.

Totally different.

Red doesn't look as nice.

He's not as cute. I mean, he looks weird.

He's scary looking.

He has a big head...

Look...

If red is the new blue...

The opposite. Not funny.

I'd like you to meet Alekseï.

Excuse me, it's not him. The blue one.

This isn't a grocery. You don't pick.

"The blue one" is Sergey.

His parents arrive tomorrow from Belfort.

This isn't a game, you know.

You can still change your mind.

Right away. It's not a sales agreement for a fancy apartment.

You don't have a trial period.

But you can change your mind now.

You know,

lots of couples in France have love to give.

What do we do?

Are you coming home?

Mommy made you a nice room,

with elephants, tigers...

Come on.

Thank you, ma'am.

Give him your hand.

Here she is!

Good evening. I just rang your bell.

Can you sign the authorization I left you?

The authorization?

The proxy, rather. To be precise.

For Thursday's homeowners meeting.

Too busy to attend?

As usual, we're too busy.

You'll have it tomorrow morning.

Thank you. - Excellent.

You have a nephew visiting?

Not at all, he's...

our son.

Alekseï, Mr. de La Chaise...

Congratulations, my boy.

Welcome to rue de Bellechasse.

And he's from...

From Yourbutt.

A dingy town in the steppes, full of hair and pebbles.

Don't know it.

Good evening...

With all your teasing, one day Mr. de La Chaise

may say Alekseï's noisy and demand carpeting.

On your parquet floors.

And if you hadn't called her an ass, we'd have our son, not a stranger.

He's asleep. I can talk.

I may be thick, but she did it to punish us.

For our money, our contacts, crazy Diaper Lady,

but at first it was only because you said "ass".

He's less cute. - Stop.

I didn't say uglier. I said less cute.

She had time to switch their papers.

Ours is in Belfort with people we don't know,

who have a picture of this one

who's here for 20 years. At least!

If you hadn't told that ass about the dirty dealings

of which we took advantage...

She'd have called that couple.

No Gold Card, but happy to have Alekseï.

Well... "Alekseï"...

Except he's not ours.

- It's his nose. - But the chin, not at all.

The chin develops from five to eight.

- How do you know? - I can't remember.

The hands are the same.

Kid hands are kid hands.

He doesn't have this dimple.

You lose your dimples. They fill in.

They fill in?

They fill in over time.

- Yours never filled in. - I didn't have it as a kid.

Your mom's walls are full of your pictures.

Whatever.

This will drive us crazy. Enough.

Let's go to bed. - Wait.

Come on, come on... Enough.

Good morning.

Sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean it.

You'll get to know me.

We'll get to know each other.

I can come across

as cold, aloof, even hurtful, but it's not true.

Call it what you like, modesty--

You really are sick.

I don't know. You say he understands.

He understands he's hungry.

But Cyrille...

I never eat breakfast.

Cut it out. This is not about you!

It's about him. Alekseï. He's hungry.

Of course...

So what do we have?

You usually deal with this stuff.

Eggs... Want some eggs?

Oranges... Fresh squeezed?

I can do it. Do we have a lemon squeezer?

Ham... Some ham?

Or this ham...

"pata negra".

The pigs have black feet. That's why we say "pata negra".

It means "black feet".

All they eat are acorns.

This is surreal.

Here... we have this.

How do you say "milk"?

Milk is bad for your health.

Read "Sour Milk". We have it here.

Baby...

what's happened since yesterday?

You get lobotomized?

"Moloko"...

I'll get some milk.

I'll come back before you read him your book.

Give him a cigarette. Nice and healthy.

When does the nanny come? - Tomorrow.

Her name?

Danielle.

I don't like that.

It's for him.

Really? I was wondering.

He eats a bit of everything.

Actually, for the time being, it's mostly milk.

I'm counting on you to expand his horizons.

We have Lebanese take-out,

a very good Indian on the left, a Japanese nearby.

I forgot. You know the area.

I'm glad you're here because...

language is the problem.

We're a bit lost.

We don't know what he eats, if he's happy,

if his room's too hot, if he's bathed.

No problem at all. I'll go ask.

So he says the bath was fine,

he loves fries, mashed potatoes and macaroni,

his room's not too hot and he's happy.

Especially with you.

He said all that?

You're a lifesaver.

Let me kiss you.

See you tonight. - See you.

I went to the bathroom. I left him for a minute.

- You said he liked mashed potatoes. - He did.

You know, we can make you whatever you want.

We'll force nothing on you.

You like mashed potatoes so we made it.

You can't drink milk forever.

You harm your system.

This may not be the right time...

but at 18 I was anorexic and I harmed mine.

I'm happy to leave work for him. It's no problem.

But if it's to get whacked with mashed potatoes,

tell him in Russian that it's not done.

I'll say what I think of all this.

Gently, of course.

I saved your skin.

Because his call at 5 a.m. when he saw you on the TV screens

at the Seoul airport...

We've all had teenager emergencies...

Infirmaries, hospitals, even precincts.

It's not a three-hour opera. It's 15 minutes, in and out.

For us, for the magazine, for French fashion,

even for you, it's just not done!

Not to pressure you, but someone's ears were itching.

She wouldn't say no to your job.

Who?

I'll start. Lionel only has 38 minutes.

Sorry to bother you.

- See you. - Olivier,

that shirt is pure perfection.

So who?

No one.

I'm Cyrille.

Alekseï's father.

Crazy...

Have we met before?

Excuse me...

I imagined you different.

We don't look alike?

I imagined you thinner, grayer, not so handsome.

I mean not so...

not so young, not so...

Sorry, my hair is a mess...

No worry.

It's for him.

By the way,

can you ask if he's up for a motorcycle ride?

It's fine with me.

That I take him?

To sit behind you on your bike.

- I'll ask him after dessert. - Ask now.

We have a dinner tonight.

Go on.

I didn't understand.

Him neither. What's "motorcycle"?

I don't know. I mostly did Russian lit.

I see. Dostoyevsky, etc.

Tolstoy, Putin.

Pushkin.

Him too.

"Matacicol".

And "da"? Any idea what that means?

Of course! "Da" means "yes".

"Thanks" is "spasiba".

Bravo, Danielle! Hats off.

Let's go, sweetie.

Danielle speaks no more Russian than you and I.

She speaks incredibly well!

Okay.

On Tuesday she asked him what he liked to eat most.

Okay...

forget the mashed potatoes, but he told her lots of stuff.

He prefers baths.

He's happy with us. She gets by fine.

It's more than enough to get by.

I had webcam security put in at the gallery.

I'll do it at home. You'll see her Russian.

Today is Wednesday...

There is no school...

and we decided...

We both decided...

...not to go to the office.

Double F.

We'll spend the day together.

Here we go.

I found something fun to do. Go get dressed.

I am dressed.

Pajamas, the new pant suit.

Exactly.

No, honey...

Listen to me.

You have enough. We'll come back.

The real ibexes are over there.

There's a baby. Better than a stuffed one...

Look.

- Look. - Drinking his "moloko".

We bought enough toys today.

I need to go pee.

Don't start again.

Please.

Put back the ibex.

Thank you and sorry.

Come on. You have your pretty sea lion.

Look at the baby monkey.

It went behind the shed.

He is so cute.

...and we all come from monkeys.

Grab onto my bag...

I don't believe it!

My boss, the smoker. I mentioned her in the car.

The one who bought a kid.

In the sea lion pond!

Film her. I'll deal with this.

From fatso, who blew the big one.

Like I said, the 7th is fine.

You said the 8th, which is Saturday.

The 8th isn't a Saturday.

Sometimes I wonder about you.

I have work. Can you email it to me?

- The meeting? - No, the film.

If you get fired, which you may, try our video department.

I'm not joking. It's well shot.

Danielle's great, even if she lied about Russian.

You're too nice.

Last night she did laundry till 9:30.

I didn't even have to ask.

Why does she do our laundry? Her job is to tend to Alekseï.

What's she doing?

Show here.

Show here, Cyrille?

Why criticize your mother?

She's in the bathroom.

She's taking out your shirts from the hamper.

She's sniffing them.

Sniffing your shirts and socks.

- May I behold? - Look.

Put that back right now.

Put it back in the hamper, witch!

No way...

- Something smelled fishy. - Not for her.

My boxers.

He's not asleep.

I said to go to sleep! Get out of here!

Stop with your gibberish!

She's crazy! I'll kill that madwoman!

Calm down.

Hold on.

- What? - You'll see.

Everything okay?

Fine. I put him to bed at 8:30.

I'm watching TV.

- Any good? - What?

The movie.

Tootsie. I've seen it before.

- See you soon. - Yes, see you.

A real psycho.

A real psycho!

And a young Russian girl was a risk?

As if I didn't know.

He's the one being punished. Blondes just aren't my thing.

I didn't hear you come in. Good evening.

I was knitting socks for Alekseï.

If you give me your size, I'll knit you some too.

What do you think? Not to be nosy...

Nine and a half? Ten?

No clue.

- Was it any good? - What?

Tootsie. You were watching it.

They showed it two nights in a row.

Really? How odd...

Yes, I saw it last night.

Since you like movies,

I'll show you a great little movie.

Like short films? - I love them.

- Even violent ones? - With you I won't be scared.

We'll watch together.

It's not me, I swear.

That's not me.

- Are they my socks? - Nope. That can't be me.

And that boy... isn't Alekseï.

That's not me...

It's something that wasn't...

It's not me at all.

Who's that?

I can't watch. It's not me.

Hire Cinnamon. She's no stranger.

I don't mean him.

And for you, even less so.

You are really part of the family.

She can do homework at your place.

It'll bring you good luck.

Look... how old when you graduated, Aleksandra?

She was 14.

Try to count the difference.

After you're left back four times, they stop counting!

I'll graduate this year for sure.

God willing, my child.

Is it gone? - It has to dry.

My fault for wearing my outfit for tomorrow's wedding.

I agree. Especially with him.

Help yourself to my clothes!

I have short, long, every style and era.

Every size too.

4 to 16. I can open a store.

What brand is it?

We'll get you another.

It's Alekseï...

who flung the gravy.

Take a look.

Cinnamon, stop it...

It's not funny! - Zara.

You tease me for my cheapo light bulbs.

You're one to talk.

- Zara can be nice. - She says in Balenciaga.

- You can slap her. - I intend to.

Stop that! That's enough now!

Please. You can't break Nana's glasses every Saturday.

How will she drink?

Forget it, but my Ming vases...

From his father, for the Englishwoman.

Zero for the American. - Really?

Just a huge apartment with a terrace.

Dad called. I think he's leaving his American.

Is he coming to Paris?

I have a guestroom. Tell him.

Dad hasn't called you in 10 years!

Will you tell him?

Damn...

Cinnamon drank two bottles of champagne!

- With her boyfriend. - Still.

How can I install that?

Camille says the maid steals bras.

- Jewelry too. - That's worse.

They left the living room.

Where's Alekseï?

He's not in his room. Let's go.

It's dinner. I have one helmet.

Here.

Just a sec.

How does it work?

He's in the kitchen.

Asleep on the table.

She gets 35 an hour!

Unbelievable. They're in his room.

Jeans down. - Don't watch your sister.

- We're 17 years apart. - So what?

Can I? I don't know her.

He's not her first.

- She said so? - I can tell.

- How can you tell? - Her moves.

She's 20. - A blowjob?

Please...

Not at all.

What, Aleks? Please!

Show us. You're not being nice.

Okay, let's go.

- We have just one helmet. - You use it.

We'll be five minutes. Order two of the same.

Let's do things in order. Let him sleep.

You do it.

No, you.

- Why? - Because.

Hold on...

A cute girl at grad school got caught like this.

She never did it again. Ever.

Now a 250 pound librarian in Quebec.

My sister hasn't even graduated.

- I hate doing this. - Go on.

Cinnamon?

It's us!

Who?

Us.

Already?

Yes, already.

For Saturday too.

For the champagne. - It's all I found.

Shut up. Shame on you, at your age.

- What did I do? - You know.

No, but you seem to.

What did I do? What did I do to you?

I wish my guy sticked up for me.

- "Stuck". - Because...

I get hit and you shut up.

Same when you're hit. Lucky you're fun.

- "Luckily". - Stop!

Take a good look. See? You'll never see me again!

- I'll clean the living room. - That's nice.

He can sleep over. Excellent idea.

So I'll come for them both tomorrow

and on Thursday you'll pick up Jean-Côme?

You too. I have to go. I have another call.

Dad? We'll talk from the office in 10 minutes.

Hang up the phone well.

I said hang up the phone well.

Let's walk in the woods, while the wolf isn't there

If the wolf is there...

Did you see something?

The wolf!

- Do I scare you? - Not at all.

100% Cashmere, what will happen to Little Red?

Quiet, that's enough.

Your son is well-spoken.

It's not him.

Where is he?

With the cat whiskers!

That's something... too perfect.

Don't be upset if this ends up in my book.

Every single detail.

Except your name. I'll spell Aleksandra with an X.

What is it now?

Alekseï took a kitchen pot... and hit me with it.

Then...

he stuck pick-up sticks in my nose,

pinned me to the floor and farted in my face.

Come here.

What happened to Jean-Côme? It's not nice.

You put ketchup on your walls,

broke the flowerpots, unplugged the computer

and really let Jean-Côme down.

I can't allow this.

Shit, the sofa...

- We'll wash it. - We can't.

It's 100% cashmere.

We can't use plastic sofa covers like your granny

or tie them to the chairs.

Fuck the sofa and my Granny who I barely knew.

All day they were like caged lions making airplane sounds.

The pots, the whining... you can't imagine.

I don't know. You get home at 11:30.

You don't even text. - I work, Alex...

It's the Design Expo.

I can't call the States before 8:30 p.m.

We could have three nannies but you're a masochist.

He's up. Now they'll fight and fart in each other's face.

They're fast asleep.

What?

- Did you drink? - No... Two glasses.

Let's put them in our bed.

Why?

Alekseï's bed is small. Jean-Côme can't sleep on the floor.

Wait. I didn't hear right.

What did you just say?

Nothing.

The prick's name?

Jean-Côme.

You don't know me well.

Never will a "Jean-Côme" sleep in my spot in my bed.

We'll bed them down in his.

"Bed them down"'.

What a goy expression.

Haven't heard it in 20 years.

I got enough of that at prep school.

Those goody-two-shoes, wearing loafers and sweaters.

I can't anymore...

- What now? - It's heavy!

You know what you should do?

Catechism classes here with all the Jean-Cômes.

This year at Aleks', next year at Marie's.

I don't trust those people one bit.

Their niceties help no one.

Unlike your mom who cares only about herself.

And by capillarity of you. Never of Cinnamon.

Or of Alekseï or her pal Martine,

who she left in the rain while doing her hair.

Do I tease your dad,

his hats and his Citroën Picasso?

You've seen my father five times.

We see your mom every Saturday!

Except during her spa week.

Then it's Sunday that she sees her son, her Sun, her King.

Only one person can tease my mother. Me.

Don't forget it.

Who's that?

De La Chaise, probably.

Pure goy. It's for you.

Go or I'll bash his face in.

Better I go then.

I've heard footsteps since 4 p.m.

They stopped and the shouting began.

I asked you to put in carpeting.

Nothing's been done.

Let alone toilets flushing at 2 a.m.

Until you came, everyone in the building got on fine.

I'm sorry, but unfortunately I'll proceed accordingly.

Meaning? - Meaning nothing.

I'll take the necessary measures. That's all.

You done moralizing? Sheriff of Rue Bellechasse?

Call the cops.

Or Rachida Dati, your minister friend.

Didn't you ever, during your shitty little life,

fight with Mrs. de La Chaise

or have one of your seven kids pee after 10?

In your household I considered you the civilized one.

I was mistaken.... thoroughly.

As Mother said, never trust appearances.

You know what? You can go fuck your mother.

Excuse me... She died last month.

I don't give a shit.

Old fart. - We'll be evicted.

Shame. - We'll move to Belleville.

You chose here for your Mommy.

Your son will meet no Jean-Cômes there.

Your son.

Yes... my son.

My thanks to Aleksandra and, no rhyme intended, Elle as well.

They were valued partners on this retrospective.

It wasn't in his room.

Paul Poiret, as you know,

revolutionized the fashion world and the real world.

Thanks to him, women's bodies

were, in 1906, fundamentally and eternally set free.

What would I do with a doggy-print pajama bottom for an eight year old?

We'll find it.

If he left his pajama bottoms at my place,

insult your husband at his workplace, not me at mine.

Fine!

Keep your son. Keep him from sleeping at my place.

You won't lose pajamas and you won't be a pain.

So what? I don't understand.

40 euros for the pajama bottom?

For the cat makeup. You must be kidding.

Know where your cat makeup is now?

On my brand new cashmere sofa

and in a book mocking me

coming out in three months in 300,000 copies.

So go fuck yourself,

your pajamas, your Jean-Cômes, your cat makeup and your 40 euros!

Fine.

Sure, fine.

Get him expelled. I'm sick of your fat ass!

Fat piece of shit! Fat whore with a headband!

You know, I'm retiring in October.

I started at Guerlain at 16.

I stayed two extra years, but they can't keep me.

I'll keep some customers. I'll do house calls.

I can come to your office. Or weekends, if we plan ahead.

I'll give you my cell.

I'd get bored if I totally stopped.

I love my job too much.

Aleksandra... don't cry!

You're so cute...

Take one of these.

You could have been my daughter.

Yes.

She didn't mention her phone call in front of the reporters?

Why must you always mention Aleks?

Do I mention your boyfriend?

What's your problem?

You want her husband and her job?

Take her son, if you want. Goddamn...

At the gallery he broke a Calder mobile.

900,000 euros, already sold.

Keep your son. I already have one.

How can a 7-year-old break a mobile on the ceiling?

He rolled the crate in front of a garbage truck.

Little prick.

I didn't know you had a son.

You see me wolf down these club sandwiches?

- Why not say so before? - I wasn't sure.

Now you're sure and it's a boy?

"Mazel tov", as we say...

Is your boyfriend happy?

I mentioned him...

He's not the father.

- How do you know? - No sex in six months.

When did you meet?

Eight months ago.

Is he queer by chance?

Exactly. That's why he's happy. Dream come true.

Hold on...

Yeah.

Listen, Sophie...

I've told you this before.

Let get this straight.

I'll never leave Aleksandra.

I know. Give me your ketchup, please.

- Try St. Clothilde? - They said no too.

- Hattemer Academy? - No recently adopted kids.

I can't tell Cyrille. It's all my fault.

For insulting her.

And that small school in rue Vaneau?

No mid-year students, even if I pay.

And boarding school is totally absurd.

Regret not having kids?

No, it wasn't right for me.

I don't know. Not a priority.

Being a grandmother now...

It would be nice.

If you're asking if I'm happy without kids,

the answer is yes.

People don't cry for dogs.

I know.

He didn't mean to poison her.

Martine says to take her cat.

No, but that's kind.

She was the granddaughter of the dog Dad gave me as a kid.

I know.

I know you know.

Her mother was Sulka too.

I know.

I know you know that too.

- She was very old, you know. - I know that too.

"Véronique, who hadn't eaten in two days,

"went back home and had some sausage.

"Back in her room, which she adored,

"Véronique's mommy said to her,

"Do you know I love you a real lot?"

I don't love you.

Fanette!

Taste Daddy's kibble.

Good girl.

Sorry. I scared you.

Not at all.

Sorry, I won't bother you...

I wanted to say how happy I am in Video.

I love it!

I'm glad.

- That's it. - Really.

Cyrille, can you call me back?

I left you two messages this morning.

They want Alekseï back.

- What? - We have to give him back.

Because I screamed about the mobile? I wasn't--

Not at all.

Remember the couple from Colmar?

I'll take this off.

What couple?

The ones who left the airport empty-handed.

They investigated. They hired a lawyer.

Our bribe got us their son.

They were told he never left.

They sued the association.

The judge said to return Alekseï.

He's their son. His name is in fact Bronislav.

Should I start over? - It's clear.

It's why he didn't know his name.

What a nightmare...

Does he know?

The association spoke to him for 20 minutes in Russian.

I don't know what she said. Probably not the truth.

He doesn't seem devastated.

We have to take him to Colmar. - When?

The 14th at 12:30.

My big auction.

- Not the 15th? - The 14th at 3 p.m.

I have to go. There are only two a year.

We'll work it out. They can wait a day more.

You don't realize how serious it is.

Child Services set the date.

"You must bring the child, his passport

"and all relevant documents

on Tuesday the 14th..."

I'll go.

I will.

They'll reimburse us.

- Who cares? - I know.

When did you find out?

Two days ago. I couldn't tell you by phone.

I left messages. You get back so late.

What a nightmare...

I'm going to faint. I haven't eaten in days.

No thank you. He doesn't like soda.

Water neither.

He's like that. You have milk? Just milk.

No milk?

No, I said no.

No problem.

I'll have tea with milk.

So will he.

Two teas with milk.

I'll have tea with milk too.

With lots of milk.

Thank you.

Thanks...

I said to put up your tray.

Thank you, ma'am.

I have to tell you...

I didn't go to...

Hold on...

Listen to me. Look.

Look at me...

Let me say something.

I love our life.

I liked it even more before Alekseï.

It's true.

It's just fate. And you were right. He wasn't ours.

You wanted one. I was behind you.

But it was pretty complicated.

We weren't ready.

We pulled strings and that was wrong.

That Colmar couple can't be bad. Maybe one day we'll visit him.

We can become like godparents.

Help him with college.

We don't have to be like others.

They have kids who end up insulting them in the street.

I don't need to know I can have a boy - I mean a kid -

to prove I'm a man.

I don't need that.

Know where we'll go on Friday?

To Positano, our great hotel, no kids allowed.

We'll drink Bellinis, lots of them.

- I never drink. - You will. Believe me.

I love you, Aleksandra.

I love and admire you.

We sold everything.

Every single lot.

Marie-Pierre Hergolin, Health and Social Services.

We had an appointment. - I didn't know.

After 60 days of placement.

That's how it works.

You must have received a letter.

You own here or rent?

We own it.

How many square meters?

I don't know... 120, 150...

You have upstairs too?

It's the bedroom.

How many up there?

- How many? - Square meters.

I don't know. About 60.

May I?

No pictures of Alekseï? No photo collages?

No photo collages.

May I see his room?

I'd prefer it if you covered up.

This way.

Has the dog had its shots?

Do you have the papers?

I don't know.

You don't know much.

Is your wife here?

Maybe she'll be more helpful.

She's asleep.

If you wouldn't mind waking her...

It's 9:30.

You'll have to become more cooperative.

I'm not the police.

I come and check. Pure routine. It's the law.

Children should not sleep with their parents.

And you do have plenty of space.

Wake him too. I have questions for him.

I can't wake him.

- Why? - He's gone.

- Where to? - Are you joking?

To Colmar, where he was supposed to go.

The association made a mistake.

He left yesterday.

I can't wake him.

Or her. She hasn't slept well in years.

Get your story straight.

Child Services, Social Services...

Instead of asking about collages and dog shots,

you should know we were forced to return Alekseï to the other couple.

As for my wife...

Three years of treatment, four shots a day,

three miscarriages...

God knows how she managed.

Alekseï wasn't easy,

but when it got better,

she had to return him like a sweater.

I'll let her sleep.

Furthermore, her mother killed herself the day she was born.

Never happens, but true.

Call her dad and ask.

So you see? No, I won't wake her up.

It's not your fault. You do your job... badly.

But you do it. Now please go.

On the double.

I said to go now!

Didn't I hear the doorbell?

The woman upstairs.

The blonde with the face of Woody Allen.

Returning the nutcracker.

No doubt about it.

I checked three times.

I showed my colleagues.

And my wife, the most cautious of all.

The fetus is 12 weeks old.

It happens.

Natural pregnancy after adoption.

But in your case... with three miscarriages,

your fibroadenomas, your Suraden treatment...

Want to know what it is?

Meaning?

I know if it's a boy or a girl.

Really?

Without thinking... what would you like?

I don't know... a girl.

There you go... Just had to ask.

Be careful. Make sure Cyrille is sitting when you tell him.

Yes, I see...

Not your boyfriend either.

It's simple. He was conceived in week 28.

Week 28.

July 3rd to 10th.

What happened?

Nothing.

Lots of shows. It was fashion week.

Show after show...

No male models?

Never. Not at all my thing.

Shit.

Of course.

I remember now.

Valentino party at the Opera.

I drank 10 tequilas. The Irish DJ...

He can't be hard to find.

No, I don't want to. I'm totally fine like this.

Guillaume is happy. No IVF, no dummy who can't speak French.

I met a guy in Belgium.

We like each other. He's free. I'm lucky.

Pregnant women mustn't drink, but alcohol...

is how they get pregnant.

- Think so? - No...

I know so. - Why is that?

I just do.

I already told you.

Giraffes, pandas, kangaroos, koalas...

I want the ibex. Even damaged.

I already told you it's the display model.

We're not allowed to sell them.

Keep the change.

I don't want your money.

Who do you think I am?

We think we do that? We're not thieves.

Well, I am.

She's a real dimwit.

I said to stop hiding the plates.

It hasn't sunk in that he's gone.

I preferred blue to hot pink.

Even for a girl.

Honestly, Aleksandra, I prefer your new dog.

She recognizes me.

Good eater too.

Even with liqueur.

His train arrives at 1:24. Leave the chicken.

He can't eat it cold!

I skipped dinner.

Go to McDonald's!

I'm on a diet and you send me to McDonald's!

Have some chips.

Chips!

I hope he snacks on the train.

Because riding here on an empty stomach...

Unbelievable! It's like he went to war.

He went to see a table in Amsterdam yesterday.

As usual you care only about him!

I changed the cable box for you!

They came at 7 a.m., but they came.

Keep the scarf on. It's chilly!

- Look. Isn't it cute? - Yes, it is.

Look...

Puffed underwear and matching socks.

Great.

Damn...

What happened in Amsterdam?

I wasn't in Amsterdam.

Oh yeah?

No, I wasn't.

Where then?

Colmar.

Why in Colmar?

Guess.

No idea at all?

Lunchtime! It'll get cold.

Just a minute!

To see Alekseï, believe it or not.

I found them, after five hours.

I went there with this.

They were eating...

with a little girl who didn't look like Alekseï.

Cut the crap.

Stop playing doll!

Where did you put him? Where?

Did you drown him? Freeze him?

What the fuck did you do?

Tell me or this will end badly.

Where is he? What did you do to Alekseï?

Where is our son?

Stop it... You know I'm pregnant.

You're unfit to be a mother.

Totally unfit.

I don't want a baby with a psycho.

You hear me?

You hear what I'm saying?

You'll kill her!

He's alive. I swear.

Tell me or I'll report you.

Is the dog drunk?

I'm talking to you.

No room in the morgue.

Wait till they wheel out the Chink.

You're lucky.

Among all the pills, there was an emetic.

Nothing reached the stomach. The baby wasn't at all affected.

I always said that one was lucky.

Beat it, Mom!

Enough of you.

See how he treats me?

My son, from my womb.

I didn't sleep the first three weeks.

Not a wink. Just to watch him.

Take her home.

Mom, leave me alone.

For once leave us alone!

"That one" is my wife.

Your goddamn medicine got her here.

You can take the dog to the vet.

Giving liqueur to a dog...

Go on... get lost.

See, baby?

You listening or not?

Yeah, I'm talking to you.

Don't squeal like a pig.

Wait like a good girl at home

in your flower-print apron

and your bush beneath.

Right, baby?

How long has it been?

Three and a half months.

You behaved worse than your mother.

- Stop it. - It's true.

Not to boast, but you were raised well.

What about Cyrille? He'd never have let you act so stupidly.

It's unbelievable.

It's totally beyond me.

How could he have believed you?

I forged the court letter.

Easy at the office.

I'm so lost, I don't realize I can go to jail.

Well, you're not there yet.

But as for the kid...

It's snowing.

Do you see them?

No.

They came out now yesterday.

I do.

There they are.

Two of them.

Another.

Two more.

Let's get closer. You'll see better.

I thought it was him in green

but up close, without a hat, no.

It's not him.

They didn't keep him.

He was adopted, of course.

The woman at the airport said so.

"Lots of couples in France have love to give."

Okay but... they're empty words.

Empty but true.

Wait.

Mommy!

Let me explain.

Everything's settled now.

We need one last document and a release from the orphanage.

We'll have it by next week.

Child Services?

I'm not from Child Services.

I'm sorry. You're Alekseï's new nanny.

I'm not Alekseï's new nanny either.

I'm Aleksandra's old pedicurist.

Great.

She's at the hospital.

She went in early.

I came for her things.

She forgot to tell you.

I can't even offer you coffee.

- So he was born. - Who?

The baby!

No...

How dumb of me.

Yes, it's a little girl. This morning at 10:55.

90 minutes ago. You're the first to know.

Even I don't know. I mean...

I can't...

You're so cute.

Take one of these.

You could have been my son.

Yes.

It's for me.

Hot off the press.

The proofs of my book.

Excuse me, René-Yves. I'm very sorry.

I said I'd help with the oysters. The taxi took forever.

Did I miss the show? - Just a dress rehearsal.

This costume wasn't my choice.

It looks good on you.

I think we have to give her a bottle.

The only thing is - I don't know why -

100% Cashmere sounds more like a sweater to me.

Me too.

Too late to change the title?

I think so.

Wait a sec.

This one is better. It's Christmas.

Son...

your father is coming back to Paris.

For good.

Cut the crap.

It's not crap. It's true.

On your sister's life!

Too much.

Marrying your champagne thief?

How do you know?

This is too much like Molière.

Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, screw you!

You too, asshole!

Hear that?

We all heard.

Even that asshole is funny. What next?

Alekseï, break something.

Just like before.

You can. It's an order.

Not clear glass. - It's good luck.

Yes but it's too much.

Back to Russia!

Before you know it!

I understood.

Come here.

A job for you.

Go pick up the glass.

And put them...

in here.

Because if Santa Claus cuts himself...

Not very classy.

Exactly.

Go on, meatloaf.

We'll dance again after.

Cyrille, Guillaume...

Michel Dutertre... ask me to dance!

I was just about to.

It's the first time someone's picking me up.

I swear.

Has my son come back up?

I didn't see.

See you tomorrow, my love.

Merry Christmas.

I'd hate to have been a redhead.

Oh I'm sorry.

At least we know you're the father!

Look, Dad, he does exist!

- Who? - Santa Claus.

What are you doing there?

I dropped the key in the sewer.

I couldn't lift it. It's too heavy.

I climbed the pope... no, the pipe,

and I fell twice.

I hurt myself. - Did you cry?

No... there was no one.

Subtitles: Andrew Litvack

Subtitling: CNST, Montreal