Your mom knows many great places to go and things to do in Paris, ninos. She is able to direct our steps through a new neighborhood directly to a shop with Halloween supplies, map the metro route to a museum with an exhibit we will like, locate a restaurant where the staff speak enough English to make me comfortable, identify bookstores with English language books and so on. On this day we were doing many of these things, and having lunch at a friendly pizza place we had tried with success the week before.
On this visit, we were seated in a small loft area overlooking other areas of the restaurant. It was a great location for people watching and we made the most of it.
You both have such lovely manners, ninos, I enjoy watching you eat. And of course I love taking pictures of you, so here we are.
You each ordered the pizza of your choice along with sparkling water (a treat; Paris tap water is perfectly good as all guide books point out) with the prospect of ice cream for dessert. You then proceeded to eat your separate pizzas slowly, graciously, methodically. Every scrap.
I get the message: stop pointing that camera at me while I am eating my lunch, Nonna. Sorry, Clam, but I am so impressed with your tidy dining behavior, I feel compelled to document it.
Weezie is lost in thought, closing in on her next to last piece of pizza. I am enraptured by your ability to eat so slowly, neatly, scarcely a crumb escaping your rosebud lips. And nary a tinge of sauce on your chin or finger tips to be dabbed or (quelle horreur!) licked away.
Okay. For now. But my camera and I will be here, capturing next time. Love you, my beautiful grandchildren.
Oops! A wayward crumb. Good catch there. Close call, Weezie.
Did you get a picture of that, Nonna?
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