B-Day or J-Jour

Instead of B-Day, for Babysitting-Day, why didn't I think of J-Jour, for Juliet-Jour? (J-Jour was the French equivalent of D-Day in World War II.) Anyway, today was B-Day, or J-Jour, whichever you prefer. And it all went rather well; a few very minor slip-ups, but nothing catastrophic. Tom and I had a lot of fun, and I think Juliet did, too.

We arrived at the apartment at 8:35, just as Matthew and Jeanne were ready to leave for work. This was the only really difficult time of the day, as Juliet was fairly inconsolable when both of her parents left, and she had to hang around with Grandma and Grandpa, neither of whom she knew that well. We worked through it, though, and managed to get some good play time in before our morning nap. The next big hurdle was the 11 A.M. feeding. Once again, Juliet was not happy that these strange grandparents were going to feed her her lunch. But with these hurdles behind us, the day began to look up.

We walked to a bakery on the east side of Levallois, to get some bread for lunch and dinner. Many bakeries are closed for August vacation, and many others aren't open on Mondays. A long walk to get the bread will help us work off the calories in the bread and the cheese.

After a brief nap, Juliet was awakened by what Tom called a "poop-a-polooza", which means, essentially, a whole lotta poop. It took many, many wipes and two grandparents to handle this little emergency. After this, we all felt a trip to the park was warranted. Turned out to be a good move; a beautiful day, lovely Parc de la Planchette, great tickle-your-feet grass, and nowhere else we needed to be. We saw some other grandparents with grandchildren at the park. And we saw some grandchildren-less grandparents who smiled at us with obvious understanding, and a little envy.

Which brings me to a defense of the French people. I often hear others saying, "The French are so distant, so cold. They're difficult to get to know." The French are very private people, and they respect others' privacy. But if you really want to know the hearts of French people, just tote a grandchild around with you. You will collect smiles, knowing glances, approving nods and sometimes, kind questions or compliments, or a seat on the Metro, or a garden gate held open.

We stopped at the toy store on the way back to the apartment. Tom casually mentioned to Juliet that he loves stacking toys, and she very appropriately chose a darling little trio of stackable geometric shapes. The two of them played with it quite happily the rest of the afternoon. Poor Juliet! We wore her out! By the time Jeanne got home, Juliet had fallen asleep in my arms. She slept through bath time (we found out bath time is "flexible"), had a late supper and bath, and an early bed time. We had a great day, and we get to do it all over again tomorrow!