Give up all semblance of rational parenting, that is. Eating? Eh, whatever you want. Bedtime? What’s that? Kids out of control? Just pour me another glass of wine.
I am writing this blog post courtesy of Comedy Central Osterreich. The boy always begs to watch South Park. I don’t let him. But South Park in German? Sure, why not. If he starts saying, “Du hast Kenny toten gemacht!” then more power to him.
The kids love Paris. Et porquoi pas? Today alone, each had a hot chocolate, an eclair, a Coke, French fries, a chocolate sorbet, and diablo avec grenadine (aka a Shirley Temple). And that’s only because they didn’t want any of my offered chocolate crepe. Mmmm, chocolate crepe.
I think we’ve learned some of the secrets of traveling with kids. The first, of course, is incredibly low expectations. The second, never save the best for last. Adam and I got the museum pass, which covers multiple museums. Today we went to the Musee D’Orsay and went straight to the Degas ballerina, do not pass go, do not collect 200 Euros.
Once that was viewed, the girl was open to seeing other things, and we actually read about some of the art work, talked about what we thought, and the kids took some time to sketch.
After the Museum, we headed to Notre Dame, where the girl got the much-longed for beret and the boy enjoyed visiting Notre Dame. He liked it because he just finished reading (an abridged version of) The Hunchback of Notre Dame; the girl enjoyed waiting in line to see the cathedral and then, after 3.2 seconds, demanding to be taken to the bathroom, which of course was outside.
The kids are finally on a Parisian schedule, and for our 8:30 dinner, I had the opportunity to eat with abandon: onion soup, foie gras, and lots of red wine. Joy!
Finally, we pressed our luck and took the kids to the 10 pm Eiffel Tower light show. Our kids who have a 7:30 bedtime in their own time zone. (Note, it’s still not completely dark at 10!) I have a feeling we’ll pay for this tomorrow….
But, hey, who cares? This is Paris. And there’s always another bottle of wine.
I could not help but notice that the Fench fries on your dinner table are wrapped in paper with Russian text on it. Are you sure you are in France? 😉
I think Russian is considered tres chic. Funny, as I was writing the post, I said to Adam, “You better get the German close to correct because Yury reads this!” Didn’t think about the fry covering. 🙂
Being polite as I am, I did not comment on the German sentence, not to upset Adam. 🙂
Curious what the fires wrapper said, I can only see “russian something”.