11.20.17

You look like a girl in that jacket.

At 1am, the TV in the girls’ room mysteriously clicked on - jolting S out of bed and prompted her to ask me did you say they could watch TV?  Generally, it’s a yes, but 1am was a definite NO.  Jumping out of bed, we scrambled to find the remote, unable to find it for several minutes until I picked up Pooh Bear off the floor and found that his THICC bottom had most likely squashed the remote enough when he fell off the bed to turn the TV on.  

It was another early start this morning.  

Up first, then shaking everyone else awake so that we could get dressed and eat breakfast prior to our Muse Clues tour of the Louvre at 10am.  

Knowing how long it took to walk it, I was anxious even knowing we were taking a cab over to the meeting point.  But food is a major requirement to any prolonged activity with these hooligans.  

I buttoned my Hemingway sweater, and then my youngest said, with the greatest love and respect, you look like a girl in that jacket.  Powerful start to the morning.  

WIDE EYES - time to strike!

We headed over to Le Rostand, the same cafe from yesterday, and the waiter was super pumped to practice his English and we were super pumped to not have to use our horrific French.  The cafe was empty, so we managed to eat piles of bread and butter, drink two coffees each, and get out of there in about a half hour.  

KEY MOMENT: We learned why you don’t pet Roxanne.  She was sleeping on top of a bank of boothes, and the girls went over to see her.  H2 reached out her hand and flurry of paws kept her at bay.  Thus, we now know why you don’t pet Roxanne.  

In the taxi we were asked New York or California, then when we said CA and Los Angeles, we got HOLLYWOOD BLVD!  We all said yes, HOLLYWOOD BLVD even though we are from a way tougher street - WILLOW WOOD.  

We made it to the Louvre in time, and H1 and H2 immediately had to climb on top of things, H1 placing her hand directly in a giant orange bird turd.  She then began shaking her hand shouting get it off, get it off and looking terrified.  S hosed her hand down and wiped it off and neither of us could understand how you could miss such a giant turd.  

Our guide, Orane, took us across the square to the pyramid, then down into the 3 main wings of the museum with a specific work to focus on in each location.  We went from the oldest piece to the newest, and H1 was fascinated by every story and detail, hanging on every word and offering up her own knowledge and stories.  

H2 was super pumped on this lollipop S pulled from her bag.  

Once again, the tour was worth every penny to keep the girls interested and all of us learning.  2 hours went by insanely fast, and we definitely left feeling like we hadn’t seen enough - even though we’d hit most of the biggies.  

Orane said that when they pyramid was installed in front of the Louvre, Parisians hated it, and followed this with but Parisians hate everything.  I’m not expert here, but I would say that there seems to be a seriousness to the faces of the people here, a lack of smiling or laughter that is a little oppressive - maybe just to Californians who are used to easy smiles and loud laughter.  

It is very quiet here.  People talk more quietly (which is nice), but I haven’t heard laughter (except ours) in our many hours walking and eating around the city.  

S pointed out that you feel like you could run into the President on the street here, whereas at home, it’s an impossibility (and maybe you wouldn’t want to anyways).  There is a kind of small world feel here and the egalitarian nature of the boulangerie, where men in expensive suits line up to buy baguettes with tourists and families and shift workers sort of makes it feel like the street at least is a level playing field.  

The girls’ tour culminated in unlocking a locker to retrieve a prize, which was a board game, a prize they will love to play over and over again.  We said goodbye and then headed to the gift shop because we needed a mug, a guidebook to read later, and other knick knacks our children would manipulate us into buying.  

Perfected dejected.

When bae hugs his other bae.

We slowly wound our way out of the museum through the attached mall, the crowds of large tour groups, and more and more stairs, finally emerging on Rue du Rivoli.  Food was very much a necessity, and I knew S’s favorite restaurant, PRET-A-MANGER, was nearby.  We walked about a third of a mile, and made it to her Xanadu.  She helped herself to their tasty pre made sandwiches, my favorite was the meatball hot pocket she told me was a falafel.  

Our legs were all pretty smoked after days of 7 and 8 miles previously, so we sat for quite awhile luxuriating on fine French cuisine.  Honestly, it’s pretty good and it was fast and the girls didn’t gag when it was placed in front of them.  That’s a major plus.  

I needed cash, so we sought out an ATM, happening upon the Palais Royal’s garden just by peeking through a gateway.  We walked in between the trees and on the striped pillars, then headed for the metro, H2’s dream.  

5 stops later, we were back in front of Boulangerie Tour D’Argent and their wonderful pastries.  We picked up a selection, including a pan au chocolate with almonds, a palmier, cookies, mini croissants, an Chausson au Pomme - and damn, they were all so good, especially when eaten by the Seine with a view of Notre Dame and the Hotel du Ville in front of us.  

The girls ran up and down the embankment, crumbs flying off of them like dirt off Pigpen.  They decided it was time to place space invader and began pretending to shoot each other, until H2 decided to go Menendez on me and S, blasting us while we sat on the bench and then laughing as she ran away.  Her next step was to develop a gun that shoots knives and then they cut you.  This took the war games way too far as that level of violence breaks the Geneva convention.  

When you let your kid have just a lil' bite.

We cruised further down the Seine and then headed up some stairs till H1 shouted it smells like poop!  We figured that it was a pretty frequent vagrant bathroom, but then we saw the bathroom action and we all gave a collective retch and we just prayed that H1 didn’t step in it because we’d be hucking her boots into the river and she’d be hoofing it barefoot.  I hope it was a dog’s mess, but dog or man, the poor thing was desperately ill.  

H2 has been on a I need a new soccer ball rampage, and keeps asking for a soccer ball at 30 minute intervals every day since she realized they have soccer in this country too.  We keep explaining that we don't have space, save your money, we have lots of soccer balls at home, we don’t have time, to which she replies I only have 3 soccer balls! Passing by a shop with soccer balls today, I saw they were 26e, which meant it was a no go.  A cheapie one we leave behind maybe, but a 35 dollar football?  I’d have to try and drag that back home and that wasn’t happening.  Amazingly, and I’m super proud of her, she engaged in only a short sulk, and then I carried her a mile home up hill to ease the pain.  

H1 took this as an opportunity to express her moral outrage and H2 being lazy and not walking implying I was being taken advantage of (I was).  

Let's get WEIRD.

Back at the hotel, we relaxed and recovered our legs a bit, and tried to figure out where to eat.  There is a sort of vibe that occurs when you bring kids into most restaurants here.  It’s not an outright no, but it is pretty heavily implied.  We didn’t feel like facing that gaze, nor did we feel like trying to get the girls to go classic French, so we hit up La Creperie again.  They ate, we ate, we learned about French Santa Claus, and we washed it all down with…

ICE CREAM #1.  

Tomorrow we are going to attempt Disney Paris, so it’s early to bed and another early wake up to catch the train.  

Probably going to try and pet that cat again tomorrow...