Sometimes you find common connections where you least think they would be. This weekend my click points were with a five-year-old and his two-year-old brother. At a birthday party in the French countryside, I spent a few hours hanging out with the shorter set; and I must say, the conversation was both relaxing and riveting. Our topics of discussion included breakfast, soccer and jumping the last of which he had to physically demonstrate to me because I was unfamiliar with the verb. The two-year-old on the other hand, well, not so much; but general hand gestures gave us both a win-win and by the end of Saturday night, he was sneaking me low-fives across the dinner table.
There was wild mushroom picking in the forest with an 80-year-old Parisian pharmacist who blessed our found fungus which we giddily placed into cheery wicker baskets, adults clutching champagne glasses while running and playing soccer with the kids, and a feast of a dinner served inside under the dark timbers once the sky turned black.
In between sips of champagne, I kept looking around and feeling like I was in some sort of Brothers Grimm fairy tale complete with magical red foxes and giant silver toadstools.