Funny Things that Have Happened to Us along the Way

Finn crawled for the first time in Athens.

Also in Athens, while we were checking out of our fancy schmancy hotel, Sam ran across the lobby to a nude sculpture near the entrance, pointed and shouted, "Wiener! Wiener!" as he jumped up and down.

Wiener, and its derivative weenie, are his two favorite words.

Finn took his first steps in the Jardin d'Anne Franck and the Parc de la Villette in Paris.

At a park in the 18th, another mother once asked me if I had an extra tissue to spare. I responded that I only had a salted (salé) tissue instead of a dirty (sale) one.

All of our windows are French-door style, so that they open wide but have no screens.

A pigeon once flew into our living room window with such force it made us jump out of our seats. (We saw it fly away, a bit unsteadily.)

One early Sunday morning after we had just arrived, while looking out the same window, I saw a prostitute solicit a client by pulling up her skirt. Until then I wasn't sure if she was a transvestite or not (there are several in the neighborhood), but she was indeed a woman.

A few months later, while the boys napped, Pat noticed a bird by, again, the same window, and then he realized it was inside. He went over to open the window wider but unintentionally scared it. It took off toward the (unfortunately) closed windows across the room that lead onto our terrace. It slammed into the glass and then dropped to the floor. Pat thought it might wake up, so he scooped it up with a spatula and flung it over the side of the balcony. It landed on some netting that shields a terrace a couple floors down and is sadly still there.

One of our favorite walks is along the Canal St. Martin. The first time we strolled there this year, we came upon a number of tables set up by various environmental organizations. The French love their organizations and manifestations. In the park across the street, there were yellow plastic number signs like the kind police use at a crime scene to mark potential evidence. We wondered if it was some odd demonstration by the organizations, but no, there was a body under a tarp. It was a real investigation.

Last spring, while completing the paperwork for Sam to enter the halte-garderie, I think I wrote that he was very attached to his lawn (pelouse) bears instead of his stuffed (peluche) bears.

Whenever we would pass an ad for EuroDisney (and there were many posters around all summer), Sam would excitedly shout, "Mickey Mouse!" I have no idea where he learned who MM is, since we don't own anything Disney. Nonetheless, I decided his enthusiasm was a good excuse to visit the park, especially since two-and-a-half year olds are known for their love of 45-minute lines. The first thing we did, after waiting to buy our entry tickets, was get in line to see Mickey. Sam can be very shy, and I thought for sure he would cling to us when our turn came. Instead, he ran out with wide-open arms and gave Mickey the biggest hug I've ever seen him bestow on anyone. He even smiled for the pictures. It was the most expensive hug ever, and worth every penny.

The next day he still bubbled with excitement, pronouncing giddily, "I hugged Mickey Mouse!"

And then, "Mickey Mouse has a wiener!"