Work, day 2: Tuesday I arrive armed with fresh knowledge. I now know the full nap routine, including how to put him to sleep and how many sleeps he should be having each day (the correct answer is three.)
E played beautifully with her brother, which he adores because he adores her. We checked out the rather large and gracious Parc Monceau, ready for my impending after school pick-ups. I had been rather formally presented with the family’s collection of park tokens, with tokens for the swings and the mini carousel. Mrs pressed them upon me, making sure I kept them in my bag. She assured me that she would remember to ask for them back on Friday so I didn’t run off into the weekend with them (heaven forbid they miss out on a loyalty stamp.) The swings surprised me, looking very different to your average backyard tire on a rope or even your more up-market Australian-park number. These swings have an attendant, cost 1.10 euro a turn, and require two kids per swing. So I guess the money goes towards the matchmaking service provided by the swing attendant, plopping the right two kids on either end of a very dangerous metal pendulum. (Amazing that with the number of swing attendants I assume exist in France they still have such high unemployment…)
But, nothing broke, including me, and I reached the end of the day feeling very pleased with myself. Being offered a chilled glass of sauv blanc while we waited for Mrs to return, and discovering internet access, topped it all off perfectly. Mr pointedly indicated to Mrs that I had resorted to alcohol at the end of my day. Always with the cracks about my alcoholism, which, if you knew how little I drink at home, is either ironic ridiculous or both. I laughed it off and used his own words, saying it’s not wine, it’s an aperitif. Ho ho ho’s all round for that one.
I bid everyone a most cheerful au revoir after Tuesday’s dinner, thinking that this was indeed a job I could accomplish with my sanity intact. Tsk tsk.
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