Voila!

After a very much needed rest (2 of the 3 of us fell asleep by 8 p.m.), we got up and had a delicious breakfast at a local cafe. My God, the cafe creme and croissants are to die for. And I don't use that colloquialism often. I really could die right in the middle of a bite and go to my maker a happy, happy woman.

So fueled up and happy, we made our way to Ponte de Arts, the infamous bridge in Paris where lovers and friends place their lock on the bridge and throw the key into the Seine. And me being me, I could not pass up the opportunity to join in.

From there, we headed to the Louvre. Beerman and I had not intended on going, but C-man insisted because he loves art so much. He specifically wanted to see the Fauvists. (Apparently that money on Catholic education is paying off in some areas!) And so, we made our way there.

After a long wait outside in the cold, and after mugging for some funny shots around the pyramid, we made our way in.

The museum was enormous, of course, and after seeing the Mona Lisa (I'd been led to believe she was really small, which is not entirely true. She isn't wall-sized, but still a decent sized canvas, and I enjoyed seeing it immensely), we only went on to explore the second floor with all the Wild Beast French guys we came for, and the 16th century Dutch masters I love. Who knew something could make an 8 year old boy so happy? And who knew that not having anything by Matisse (Really Louvre? No Matisse?) would make an 8 year old boy almost crumble? Unbelievable.

But we're learning that seeing him crumble means he is tired and/or hungry. So we refueled with some lunch at the Louvre cafe and headed onward to see Notre Dame.

C-man lit his candle.

And I was pleased that there were no creepy relics anywhere obvious.

Having pretty much used up the whole day, we headed back outside to wander a bit in the direction of our hotel.

And, of course, decided we needed refuel again along the way. (C-man's crepe had Nutella, mine had Nutella and bananas, and Beerman had one with ham and cheese). So, so, so good, I cannot begin to explain it.

It was cold, a little drizzly, there was no Matisse (or Vermeers, by the way!), and a city filled with pickpockets almost everywhere (Beerman had to physically shove a guy off who was putting his hand into his pocket). But it was a really, really lovely and memorable day.