He Learns to Make Faces on the Window

Strange how the less often I blog, the less I seem to have to say. Or not strange, given how many years I've spent telling students that the more specific they get in their arguments, the more they will actually have to say. The many-day-overview is just of necessity less detailed than the current day's thoughts.

My parents are here! They got in on Wednesday morning, and we went to the park on the island and then lunch at the Maison Fournaise. We were pleasantly surprised that Tristram was able to sit with us all through lunch (provided we kept the bites of food coming) and did not require any trips out to the courtyard to play. Thursday we took a bateaux mouches ride on the Seine, which I mostly spent twisted around so Tristram could amuse himself playing with the i-cord I knit as a drawstring for my skirt. That, and laughing hysterically about feeding me madeleines. He was tired. Bob and Toni took the afternoon to play in Paris, and then made us dinner.

We actually are getting really spoiled this week; not only are my parents buying us meals and cooking for us and taking us for cruises on the river, Jonathan's friend Aioffe from the university babysat Tuesday night so we could go see Star Trek. It is a thoroughly enjoyable movie, although the black holes require suspension not only of disbelief but of basic logic and desire for the movie to be internally consistent. Do they crack your windshield or send you through time? I'll take either, as it fits the needs of the plot--one doesn't watch sci fi for good physics--but I'd prefer that they pick one and stick with that at least within the film. I will say, however, that the opening sequence actually made me cry. Well, ok, first it made me laugh when a woman supposedly in transition, who during an obviously fake contraction gave a little groan as if she'd stubbed her toe and then claimed it to have been a "big one." You will laugh too, if you have had a child or seen one had (unless you are in the lucky 10% or so who do think it's no big deal). But then it did make me cry. The only drawback to a movie paced like this one is that you run out of adrenaline about halfway through and so it's hard to get quite as much enjoyment out of the climax as out of the early build-up.

This morning my parents and I went for a walk along the Seine, up to where you'd turn to go the Turgenev museum. Tristram got to play with rocks and sticks and the cottony stuff that comes off of willow trees in spring. He calls it "sheep-o," which is what he calls his fleecy.

This afternoon we are going to get Lebanese food and head downtown for a picnic. We will see how many parks we manage to hit--Amitie, for sure, and then we'll swing through downtown and head to Bois Preau. In theory we will also go to Malmaison to see the roses, but that may be overambitious. We do, after all, have to get back for chicken night.

Having parents is awesome.