Golden days like these...

So we're moving to Switzerland.

Here I am, happy in my home city of Paris–the center of the universe–and papa says we gotta skip town. Now I know that these are the heady days of globalization but I've lived here my whole life. Inès and Gabriel too! Now we're off to some cow farm where the national pride means cuckoo clocks and yodelling contests on the front lawn at Neslé? I mean, you leave Patrick Roger for Milka?

It's been the kind of Spring that people think actually exist in Paris. So I don't know how papa can even think of leaving.

In the beginning of April we went out with Gongo's buddy Cyriac to the Jardin des Tuileries. It was sunny and warm and the park was packed. Papa and I took the bus home together so mama could stay with the big boys. It's days like these that I'm going to miss.

Inès and Gabriel also ran in the Cross. I guess it'll be the last one and I won't ever get a chance to race. Inès ran like a Jamaican. Gabriel was a real gentleman and stopped to wait for his friends. Competitiveness is for sad people anyway. I'll miss days like that too.

I'll miss having the Louvre in by back yard with all those Egyptians that Gongo's so crazy about and all. I'll  miss the Breton's under my balcony and the cheese shop across the street. I'll miss the papetrie and  Pietro's and Pichard and running into someone I know every time I walk out the door. I'll miss the occasional picnic with Dude and Coco and Alexis. I'll miss days like these.


Papa's in Switzerland right now missing us more than we can imagine. And I know he'll miss the golden days in Paris too.

Still, you can't ski down the Montagne Sainte-Geneviève...

So now you can check out pictures of our day out with Cyriac here: don't worry mama, they already burned down the palace.

Or see our Louvre Egyptian adventure here: Nefrewhaty?

Or our last chance for gold here: the stations of the cross.

Or just understand why papa found it so hard to leave, here: life is good.