My sister-in-law’s youngest son is Chloe’s age. They got along very well today, and Chloe made an extra-special effort to speak in French. I think she quickly realized that she’d have to resort to her Papa’s native tongue if she wanted to have a proper playmate. It seems to be working. The two played Monopoly and video games together, and even danced to, you guessed it, more “High School Musical” songs (I wonder if my brother and I tortured our parents with “Grease” as much as Chloe tortures us with that cloying soundtrack).
Their two older sons are 13 and 17 years old. Real teenagers. Outfitted with cool haircuts, cool clothes and cool technology. My sister-in-law last visited us with her oldest son, seven years ago. We were both pregnant, I with Chloe and she with her youngest. My nephew, 10 years old at the time, slept through practically the whole weeklong trip. Despite the blur, however, he still remembers his introduction to doughnuts. Enough said.
We plan to join them at playing tourists this week and are looking forward to rediscovering some of the New York’s more popular sights. Because of our hectic sightseeing schedule, you may find fewer postings than usual during the next few days. Not to worry, however. I promise not to leave you, my faithful readers, hungering for amusing anecdotes about the girls’ antics. At the very least, I’ll make sure to catch them with the camera, making funny faces for their friends out in Cyberspace.