The siren call of the streets of Paris is strong.
I made a long list of things to see before we boarded our plane for Paris: the gigantic Monet waterlilies at the Musee de l’Orangerie, the decadently dark hot chocolate at Angelina’s, the hall of mirrors in the Palais de Versailles, and even the shapely bronze statues of the garden of the Rodin Museum.
I should have known that our list would go largely, joyfully and unconquered. Instead, history came alive as we strolled the bridges over the Seine, taking in statues, lovers, and willingly giving in to the seduction of Paris.
Walking along the banks of the Seine, we saw the greatest sign.
The children complained bitterly when I dragged them out of the sunshine into the churches we crossed, but surrounded by the soaring arches of the Eglise de St Sulpice, they were immediately awed and quiet.
Before walking into the Louvre to fight the crowds for a glimpse of the Mona Lisa, we posed in front of the Pyramid. Going up was a lot easier than coming back down with my huge belly.
Night falls late in Paris during this time of year, well after nine, but everyone was still smiling.