You are utterly bonkers. I hate to break it to you, but Seymour will never leave home and go to college like other kids, you’ll be stuck with him, raising his spirits when he’s down, punching him into shape when he gets too full of himself. Then neighbors will call the police and you’ll be charged with dough abuse, really it’s not worth the pain—in the French sense of the word.
Probably I’m bonkers too, but if you’d like to ship a Seymour offspring to France, I’ll see what I can do to instill a little Gallic influence. Pain de Seymour sounds nice, non?