The Magician

Don't get your hopes up. The title refers to my ability to pull something interesting out of our normal day in Paris. Not a dude on a corner with a rabbit. Though there is a lady on the corner with a cat who can make your money disappear.

Beth's birthday is Friday, and up until today she didn't want anything except some boots she was gonna pick out. However, this morning she told us that she was sick of her small over the shoulder business bag and needed a big backpack to carry things to work in.

So we went shopping for a present for Beth today. We looked in several stores...all largely disappointing. Being a hedonistic shopper's paradise, I really expected some magic to happen once I was inside the stores. Fireworks. Confetti. An Orangutan. Instead, the three stores I went in all looked more or less like a Land's End outlet.

At least in the states we have cool stores like American Eagle (or whatever that store is in the mall) that knock you over with some sort of perfume, then try to manhandle you into the store using a wall sized muscular shirtless teenage boy. I can't even tell you how many times that's worked on me. Ok, I can, it's zero. My brother on the other hand...

So finally we found a good store and got a present for Beth. I'm not gonna tell you what it is, ya know, in case she checks here...but I'll give you a hint. It rhymes with schmackflack.

We also got a secret present on the way home that Ben picked out himself. It rhymes with bunofyourdisness. But I'll tell ya on Friday.

On the way home Ben had a meltdown. My fault really; deep down I knew he needed a snack, but a meltdown is a gradual thing. I ask him not to push the stroller through puddles (I have no idea what liquid is in those puddles, but I'm not gonna risk the wheels melting off), and he does. I put him in the stroller and he kicks a shoe off. I let him know that if he does it again, I'm not putting the shoe back on. He does it again. No shoe and it's 8 blocks of straight crying. And people telling me he's missing a shoe. At least they're friendly!

After a much needed nap we head to the park, which is crowded already at 3:30. A fight starts between a bunch of 8 year olds near our spot by the fence. It's in French so I don't know what the argument is, but I do know 2 things. One, that no adult seems to care and Two, that if those kids move any nearer to Ben, there's going to be 8 four footers that are gonna get leveled.

Someone finally steps up to figure it out...I couldn't tell if she was a nanny or a wandering French woman, but it seems to eventually diffuse the situation.

Regardless, Ben didn't want to play on the playground while it was packed with 1st graders, so we went to the grocery store and came home.

Ta daa!