Today, Kenny wanted to take the girls to The Catacombes, an underground ossuary filled with millions of bones. Although I planned to wander around Paris, after an hour in the heat, the 60 degree temperature of The Catcombes started to sound more and more appealing. Once I caught up with the family, I found they were still waiting in line after an hour:
If something in Paris was this popular, I thought I should definitely check it out. The girls were rockstars and did a good job entertaining themselves:
Samantha loves her new Petit Bateau sweater:
After three long hours, the moment of truth arrived. There was a sign warning those with a nervous disposition not to enter. Although I consider myself a fair-weather claustrophobic, I thought I could suck it up and deal, for the children's sake. And certainly I could not be accused of having a nervous disposition, whatever that means.
We descended the 136 steps (60 feet) down below the streets of Paris:
Almost instantly, my heart started pounding, my mouth went dry, and I felt dizzy. Turns out I suffer from a "nervous disposition." Kenny was not the least bit surprised. I immediately turned around, ran out of the tunnels and up the stairs a la George Costanza, knocking over the elderly and small children.
My brave daughters carried on:
Eliza having an existential moment:
I think someone went a little OCD with all the bone organizing. To each his own neuroses:
Eliza was clinging to either Kenny or Samantha the whole time. Silly girl, she could've been having a milkshake at McDonald's with me:
Some lovely pottery:
Back out into the real world:
Once my family came back from the dead, we returned home for some ice cream:
After a short rest at the apartment, I went on a quest for the perfect cheese and Kenny took the girls to a new park:
We are just about halfway through with the trip and the girls are slowly transforming into petites Parisiennes:
Mon dieu.
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