The Frolic at the Louvre

The word "frolic" carries with it connotations of fun and merriment, doesn't it?

Then I think I need to pick a different word.

Perhaps "fiasco" is more suitable?

You may ask, "Why in the heck did that woman take all those kids to the freakin' Louvre?" Right. A museum. Lots of priceless works of art... masterpieces, in fact. Are kids even interested in that biz? Ummm... not generally speaking.

Well, Big G really had a hankering for the Louvre. And given all his 'challenges' so far on the trip, I thought it would be nice to let his preferences dictate the course of action today... plus we have a local friend who knows the museum inside and out and how to hit up all the kid-critical/kid-interesting exhibits and artifacts. She can do from a 30-minute up to a 5-hour customized tour, depending on the interests of the particular group. And she is leaving town tomorrow... so today had to be the day.

Things seemed to be going in a good direction for a "frolic". Everyone slept through the night... from about 11 pm until about 8 am or later. Everyone ate breakfast and got dressed. And we left the house on time.

As we were walking to the Métro (subway), Big G mentions that his throat hurts. No time to run back to the house for throat lozenges... I indicate that this is a time one must "soldier on." He is not really one who "soldiers on". All seemed okay through the Métro ride and the walk to the musée. But this was the scene as we waited for our friends to find us...

And when they found us...

He really wanted to try to see some of the sights, so he got up and tried to "soldier on"...

Here we are, toting the stroller up hill and over dale...

lots of stairs in that place...

the cardio and strength workout for the day ;-)

But...

it was like a Zürich flashback...

This time, however, he did give about a 30-second warning and we were in front of a gifty kiosk, but the chick did not understand my inquiry about a plastic bag... she smiled and shook her head and pointed at the elevator. My French is not that bad... chick was not even trying to understand me. As we waited patiently for the elevator, he barfed on the floor in front of the chick's gift nook. He really did try to hold it in... he really did try to wait... poor kid.

The elevator arrived, and we stepped over the splattery puddles to go in search of a bathroom. We were successful in that mission. He got cleaned up. We returned to our group... still in front of the gift shop-wannabe. Dad was mopping up the mess with Kleenexes. Big G indicated that he was going to spew again... this time the chick nearly dove at us with a roll of plastic bags... nice, thick ones that would have really helped the situation in the first go-round. But better late than never, I always say :P She dropped her aloof, cranky-butt demeanor and became quite helpful. Yay! 

As this was now the scene, Daddy decided the out-of-doors might be best for the boys. 

A little fresh air for health (Big G) and attitude (Q-Man).

(note plastic bag now in possession)

Our amazing tour-guide friend took us on a whirlwind 30-minute tour, hitting primarily Greek Antiquities and Italian Renaissance...

Baby X with the Venus de Milo...

Baby X in the Mona Lisa Room...

it was mobbed and La Joconde is right behind 

Baby X's head

(she did push through the crowd up to the front and saw it closely).

We saw the guys through this window... 

that red jacket just to the left of center is Q-Man!

Daddy is the one sort of next to him with the black backpack.

And here is one of my very favorite things in the Louvre...

Cupid and Psyche

by Canova.

Baby X takes a moment to kick back.

Because we had a stroller, we got to ride up the ultracool pillar-elevator in the middle of the big glass pyramid. 

We found the rest of our family, our friends went home, I knelt down in someone's nasty gum which stuck to my jeans (I know the ice cube trick ;-) ) and Miss C tried to go for a swim in the water feature.

We made our way to the Métro, were accosted by fake deaf people soliciting distracted tourists for money (I know they were fake because I saw them talking amongst themselves when they didn't know anyone was looking), got on the homeward-bound train and collapsed in a heap...

Tired pups.

I'm thinking we'll lay low tomorrow :)

Are you a gotta-see-it-all kind of traveler? Or a chill-out-and-act-like-a-native kind? Or something in between?