Now We’re Old and Grey, Fernando: Waiting on the Plomber

Fernando didn’t bring the plumber Monday. Nor did he show on Tuesday. He still refuses to speak to The Husband so when we caught him tucked inside the building alcove last night watching the rain, he says to me only, “The plomber (plumber) will be there Saturday, 9am.”

We have taken a cue from Julliette, the housemaid, and have started backing out of the apartment, hands in prayer, thanking and loving Jesus each time we leave. It made us laugh in the beginning but now it’s a full blown superstition/supplication.

This week with the kids, the theme has been food. Megan booked a food walking tour and a croissant making class and Taylor consumes a lot of food a lot of times a day. To his credit he’s willing to try anything. Even after our food tour guide said he’d eat anything but French andouille sausage, Taylor ordered it for lunch this week. He had steak tartare for dinner that night and oysters the day before.

The kids managed the metros just fine—Megan having spent some time in NYC. Taylor did get his ribs bruised in a metro turnstile the first day so Megan has kept him in check all week by promising to “metro” him if he pulls any shenanigans. We had on plastic aprons and hands full of dough when our croissant Chef, Sarah, decided to tell us a story of child who got on one of the metro lines this year but the mom didn’t make it. Well, her head made it. Taylor then consumed two pain au chocolat and a cinnamon roll.

It is Saturday, 10am. Fernando’s elusive plomber was a no-show so I’m waiting at the apartment while The Husband escorts the kids to the train station to go the airport this morning.

They forgot to thank Jesus on their way out.

In the trash bin is a bag of uneaten and pitifully shaped croissants from our cooking class that not even Taylor would eat.

Bon voyage, kids. We love you.