Look What I Can Do, Mommy!

I was in the kitchen today preparing lunch, and I heard some grunts coming from the living room. Okay, I thought, better check diapers before we sit down to eat. 

A few minutes later I heard behind me: "Mommy." I turned around to see Sam completely naked, holding his shirt in his hand.

I rushed into the living room. His socks were on the floor, his pants and poopy diaper were on the couch. Finn was playing happily on the rug. (For better or worse, he thinks everything his big brother does is brilliant and hilarious.)

While I've heard this happens to most moms at some point, I've nonetheless decided to start drinking during the day.

Tourist or Local?

In the week that we've been in Paris, twice I have been stopped for directions. The first time was by a French tourist, the second time by an American. The American didn't even bother to ask if I spoke English, just blurted out, "Do you know where the Arc de Triomphe is?" (Um, if you look at a map, it kind of stands out, dude.) 

I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended. Do I look so blatantly un-French in my mom-gear that it's obvious I'm an anglophone? Or do I just look like I know my way around?

I suppose I should be satisfied that I successfully directed both inquirers in their respective languages. But the true moral is: I need to go shopping!