L'elf avec les cheveux blonds

While the Glorymouse continues to stamp her authority over our family, I am now wondering if my Golden-Haired Snow Elf is actually a child of my loins. I am beginning to think she was swapped at birth with a little French baby. Let me present the evidence:

She speaks the lingo.
After despairing that she would ever say anything at all, she has started yabbering away in French. She calls me "maman". (I have never called myself "maman.") She says "encore" and "oui" and "manger" and "C'est quoi?". (But she won't say 'please' or 'thank you' or 'sorry' which I bark at her several billion times a day.)

She eats garlic.
And she takes the empty red wine bottles out of the recycling and swigs from them.

She can be very rude and stroppy.
Do you see where I'm going with this?

She goes on strike a lot.
"Shall we get dressed Emma?" No. "Shall we brush our teeth?" Don't be ridiculous. In fact I'm just going to sit in the middle of the floor and scream until you go away.

She does love Marmite, though, which may blow my theory out of the water...