Back in December, Dave surprised me with a five-day trip to Paris for my birthday/Christmas. I'm not exactly well-traveled -- been to Cancun once, heyyy -- so I was thrilled. Of course, the only hesitation I had was leaving the Little One for so long right after she turned six months old.
Fast-forward a bit and I'm already back from Europe. It was incredible. We stayed at a swanky hotel in Paris before taking the train to Amsterdam for a day, then returned to Paris for the last day of our trip. We went to the Louvre, saw Notre Dame, visited the Eiffel Tower, explored Montmarte, wandered the Marais (Jewish quarter), walked through the Tuileries Garden and, of course, drank fantastic wine. We hung out with our dear friend Zack, butchered a lot of French phrases and genuinely enjoyed being Lisa-and-Dave as opposed to Mom-and-Dad.
That said, I really, really missed the nugget.
Nearly every night, I flipped through pictures of her on my phone. I watched videos of her laughing. We FaceTime'd with her from the Eiffel Tower. I cooed over photos our moms sent. (Both Nani and Gran Fran flew in to watch Ava.) Dave made fun of me, but I couldn't help it!
When I first set foot in the house after our 8-hour flight back to the States, I made a beeline for the baby. She looked at me cautiously, like she was trying to place me, but finally gave a little smile. I'll take it.
As for Dave, she totally Stranger-Dangered him. Stared at him for a few minutes before bursting into tears. Oops.
Now that we've been back for a few days, she's settling back into our routines. I swear she looks bigger, but I'm probably imagining things. Either way, it's amazing to take a grown-up trip, and it's equally amazing to have a reason to want to come home.
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