So it’s day four in Paris, and the kids have finally, thoroughly, shocked me: their favorite thing so far was not the Eiffel Tower, not the hot chocolate at Angelina’s, not the patisseries or the bookinistes along the Seine. Nope. They’re favorite thing was visiting The Louvre.
Not that I’m not thrilled, proud, even. Just a bit surprised. What kid goes away on vacation and says that their favorite thing was a museum? It’s either a sign that I’ve done something very right in raising two kids who are interested in art and history and appreciate it’s significant — or a sign that I’ve done something very, very wrong, and have raised two oddball kids who like Da Vinci’s better than pains au chocolats.
I think I’ll stick with the proud/did something right scenario.
It’s been a bit of a rough trip. For one, it’s made me feel OLD. I remember virtually nothing of my days here. Granted, it was 20 years ago — but still. I can barely remember which museum is on which bank. Restaurants I knew and loved are long gone. And most importantly, men do not notice me at all. That was always the case in New York, but my memory of myself in Paris was different — I was a babe. No longer.
For my kids, though, it’s been great. And seeing Paris through their eyes has been fun. Just like I can’t possibly know what it’s like to discover New York City (it’s just the place I live), I don’t really remember anymore discovering Paris. So nice to get to see what that’s like.
Here — take a look:
All looks good, huh? Guess I can’t complain.