Baby Oil and I arrived back in Paris on Thursday morning. Is it possible that was already four days ago? It's been a long, long few days of cranky, jet-lagged baby who generally refuses to sleep. On the up side, despite a double ear infection and eye infection, he was remarkably happy on the overnight flight. Less happy was the guy sitting next to us. A few minutes after sitting down, I heard him mutter something to his wife. I knew it had to be about the baby, so I said, smiling, "I'm sure you're thinking, oh man, I have to sit next to the baby. For what its worth, he is usually a really good traveler!" As if smiles and exclamatory statements could convince anyone.
The guy - a 20-something on his first trip to Europe with his wife of less than a year - looked at me and said, "No, actually, I'm just having a really bad day. My dog died suddenly."
"Oh no!" I replied. "That's terrible." And then I realized (and said out loud), "Your dog died AND you have to sit next to the baby? That is a bad day!" Baby Oil, however, deftly won him over, eventually crawling off my lap into his and giving some adorable cuddles.
Another gem of the trip came a number of hours later, when everyone on the plane seemed to be asleep except me, Baby Oil, and the woman across the aisle (she just couldn't fall asleep - I would have gladly fallen asleep!). All of a sudden, I feel a tap on the shoulder and the woman says, "Um, I think your baby is escaping?" I had involuntarily dozed off for a second, and Baby Oil had climbed down from my lap and was making his way up the aisle. He didn't get far, but I felt a bit sheepish.
Paris seems mostly the same. It is still gray, and it still rains. The bread is still the best in the world, and the cheese is still to die for. Parc Monceau is as beautiful as I have described it to be, and it is good to be home. Spring is coming sooner than later - our first Parisian spring! - and we have neighborhoods to explore, trips to take, and food to eat. Back in the saddle indeed.