This Friday, we had our first visitors for goûter (that wonderful french meal around 4:30-5:00 where you get to eat all the bad things you're not allowed to eat at other times, like pain au chocolat, croissant aux amandes, or, in this case, because we are Americans in France, brownies). Mimi is definitely being 'socialized' by her school experience (socialization is the great virtue everyone touts here when they start to feel a little guilty that their three month olds are in school from 8-6:30), as you can see in this picture. She played with Oonagh for 2h without screaming, and she even shared some of her toys with her!!! Matti, meanwhile, played with Elijah, a boy in his class who is fluent in English. I don't know why, though, after playing non-stop for two hours and then showing the greatest difficulty in parting, Matti still doesn't consider Elijah his friend. I asked if this was because Elijah had once told him he could not play with him in the school yard, but Matthias said no, that he'd forgiven him for that. So... I don't really get it, I thought boy friendships were supposed to be simple. You kick a ball around together for 10 minutes, that makes you friends. Anyway, I had a nice time myself hanging out with the children's mother (the same one I've had coffee with a few times whose husband is Irish).

On Saturday, we had an eventful day: we went to a used bike fair that was a complete and utter mess. You had to get a number to get in, but then there was no way of knowing what numbers were allowed in, and then it was taking eons, with all of us crushed in this enormous crowd and in constant danger of being hit by the tramway. Anyway, after getting there at 11am and then leaving at 11:45 when they had only called # 35 and I had # 178, we went back around 4:00 and found bikes for both boys--fancy mountain bikes with all kinds of gears and all kinds of suspensions all over the place. Matthias is already scheming to bring his back to Bellingham. We had thought we might find bikes for the three adult-sized persons in the family, but all the money was spent on the boys, they're the ones whose happiness most depends on being bike-enabled, I guess. I also benefit from their being mounted: on Sunday, I got to go for a run accompanied by my two boys on their mountain bikes. It makes for pretty crowded tiny sidewalks, but we got pretty far, and they didn't have any trouble going to sleep that night. You can just see a bit of Simeon's bike on the side of the picture there.

The really tragic thing that happened on Saturday, however, was the definitive loss of papou. He fell out of the stroller (we assume) in the middle of some huge garage sale on the banks of the river, and though we have gone back now three times, there has been no sign of him. Mimi periodically remembers and cries for an hour or so. She especially misses him at night. I took her to a toy store to find some kind of new friend (I know, it's a stupid idea, no one can replace papou, but she's so sad, and, as a matter of fact, I'm so sad) and she kept saying no, she didn't want any of the animals there. We did finally settle on a kind of long limbed black and white goat that's made of the same soft velveteen, but she's had a very conflicted relationship with it since. She did take it to bed last night, and was rubbing it under her nose as she used to do with papou, and then she said to Sean: "This is soft like papou... is it papou?" and when he said no, she said she didn't want it, not even anywhere near her bed. However, she did take it to school as her doudou this morning (all french children are hugely encouraged to treasure a doudou, and they get to take them to school, and everyone understands immediately the tragic nature of the situation when I tell them Mimi has lost her doudou). Anyway, this morning, as she was getting ready for school she told me the goat (which she has decided to call horsie) doesn't smell right. It smells like the girl at the store where we bought it. Hopefully, after a few trips to the sandbox and after she agrees to take it to bed, horsie will start smelling good.

On Saturday night, we had some people for dinner (the woman works for Sean's Institute, and she came with her partner and her 13 year old and their 1 year old). I was pretty apprehensive, because I have no cookbooks and few cooking utensils, but we managed quite a feast. The fun part of the dinner, though, was the two thirteen year old girls stayed at the table while the other kids took off, and then they really participated in the conversation--in French, no less. It was amazing to hear Magdalene hold her own completely fluently, intelligently and forcibly against Sean, and the mother of the other 13 year old. I wasn't just proud, either, I was really enjoying the experience of having a genuine social gathering with Magdalene included. We had a great debate over whether the french way of teaching history (by making the kids memorize hundreds of dates) is better than the American way (where you learn the big picture). On the picture, Magdalene looks mad because Sean and I have curtailed her use of the computer and she's been trying really hard to make us change our mind without succeeding. This picture was taken just after she had made one more try. If anyone has advice about how much computer time is appropriate for a girl who needs to spend more time than usual on her homework this year, please let me know.

On Sunday, we had a bit of a Bellingham day with me running ahead with the boys on bikes, and Sean following on foot and stroller with the two girls. We had agreed to meet... you guessed it, at the merry-go-round in the large beautiful parc of Procé, the very same where the boys first experienced the savage nature of the french playground when they tried to ride the babybobs. Simeon has now decided he is too big for merry-go-rounds (which is quite true), but not Matthias, and Mimi is definitely hooked. French parks are funny that way, they always have urban things to do like merry-go-rounds, little cafés in little gazebos where you can have delicious treats (I really don't know why French women don't get fat, because they sure eat an amazing quantity of fattening stuff. I guess they must eat less of the other stuff? I'll have to read that book to discover the secret).

Now, a new week is dawning. This week, Sean starts his 'professional activities' at the Institute For Advanced Studies (IEA), the place that's paid for our trip, rented us our apartment and furnished it, and generally helps us with any trouble we have. So far, they consist in lunch on Monday, dinner on Tuesday, Lunch on Thursday, and occasionally, a seminar on Thursday. It should be pretty fun for him to meet all these different 'chercheurs' from all over the world. It will be interesting to hear whether he gets any professional or academic benefit from it, or whether the lengthy and heavy meals interfere with his work, either by eating up his time, or by diverting all the blood from his brain to his digestive track. For the rest of us, it should be an ordinary week, although I have to go meet Magdalene's French teacher this afternoon, and I will probably get weighed down with more homework to do with her.