Peace Monument Paris

Since my hands and brain have been fully occupied by my  toddler and preschooler since we moved back to Paris a month ago, I've been completely out of the loop regarding world events.

Forget world events, if it doesn't have to do with my daughter's pre-k class, night time toilet training or securing a place in halte garderie, I'm pretty much clueless.

So much so that, despite living several blocks from the Eiffel Tower, I had no idea it had been under terrorist threat recently. Until last night when my mother called from California.  Trying to hide the concern in her voice, she informed me that it had been evactuated twice in the past week or so and advised me to steer clear.

News to me since you wouldn't be able to tell from the hordes of tourists who continue to swarm the area, enjoying the warm fall weather.

Most recently, I took my 15 month old out for a walk in the Champs de Mars.  Since becoming a parent, I've found that children, like dogs, do best in open, yet fenced in spaces, where they can run wild, where jumping on passerby isn't going to cause a lawsuit, and, at least in France, where you can take them over to the side for a pee, if necessary... Gone are the days of toodling through a museum.  I'm becoming an expert on open green spaces where children (and dogs) are accepted.

A grey, rainy day, I popped my daughter in the stroller and jogged her over to the Champs de Mars where, like a dog, I unleashed her onto the lawn to romp and play.

She toddled over to the Peace Monument, attracted by the stairs which she proceeded to climb and descend repeatedly, interrupting more than several tourist photos.  Despite my attempts to distract her, Azalia was drawn like a moth to the flashbulbs of tourist cameras, madly clicking pics of the Eiffel Tower.

She hopped down the steps, plopped her pink sneakers right into a puddle, splashing her way over to a Japanese couple, sitting for wedding photos.

As I leaped to pull her back before Azalia dove straight into the camera bag (since her father is a photographer she assumes all cameras are her personal toy box), the two young photo assistants came over and beckoned her towards them.  Azalia happily toddled over as they cooed to her in Japanese, suddenly all cameras focused on my scrappy little peanut, sopping wet and splattered with mud, her curly hair forming a frizzy halo around her head.

Embarrassed (I would certainly be considered a negligent mother by French standards!) I tried to pull her away from her paparazzi. Politely, the assistants asked if they could have my permission to photograph my child. I looked at my muddy little muffin who was beaming happily at the cameras and over at the bride and groom who were now being entirely ignored.

The bride left her soon the be husband and pressed her bouquet into Azalia's tiny hands. Now the center of the photo shoot, Azalia was having a ball, giggling and coohing with glee while the photographer clicked away and I tried to keep her muddy paws off the bride's dress.

The groom, apparently tired of sitting by himself, wandered over to join the crowd. The photo shoot continued - bride and groom posing in front of the Peace Monument, only now with Azalia, dressed in an old blue fleece, splattered with mud, her "bear ears" poking out of the top of the hood, standing in between them.

Somewhere in Japan, people are going to be looking at this couple's lovely Paris wedding pictures
And wondering who is that muddy blue eyed frizzy haired toddler?