Sex Education Parisian Style
The kids were missing. I could hear them laughing in my dreams. I sat up in bed, panicked, realizing they'd benefited from my jet lag and had escaped from their beds somehow. I was disoriented and it took me a second to recognize my right bank hotel room and to recognize that their voices hadn't come from my dreams but from the bathroom. Both at the same time. Not good. Another kind of panic set in. That could be just as bad as my imagined kid-escape. Groggy, I bumped into a few walls as I made my way to them. I rubbed my eyes. "What are you guys doing in here?" I asked. "Mommy, Look, there's a special bathtub for my dolls in here." It took a second for the object of their fascination to register. "Honey, that's not a doll tub. That's a bidet." I rubbed my eyes. If I wasn't so tired I'd laugh. "We don't put our dolls in there." "Why not?" I just wanted to go back to sleep. "It's not for ...