As we close this page of our vacation in France, it has been perfect for the boys. They have gotten closer to their cave men roots: going barefoot on the grass, peeing in the garden (Santi), picking berries in the forest, sleeping in tents the whole night, watching knights fight, riding horses, and simply being wild. I love the freedom they have had, no worries about anything except falling and scraping their knees or foreheads.
They also got very close their French roots: they have eaten cheese like there is no tomorrow! And in a way they are soooooo right! We'll soon be back to mozzarella balls and other bland white cheese. They loooooooooved all the cheese that their Uncle Vincent and Tata Nabou brought from the mountains in eastern France and our little guy loved the stronger flavors. He demands his cheese after his meal now like it's his birth right! And please, abstain from giving him supermarket cheese. And needless to say, after 3 weeks here, they are speaking French like the locals.
Mateo: "Daddy, you don't say 'oui'; it's 'ouai' (not weee, but weh)
Santi: "Daddy, you can't let Dago (the dog) out, Papounet is going to say, 'Oh shit!'
Tomorrow we embark on the last leg of our trip. We go to Paris for five glorious days. Too short but better than nothing.
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