The Return of the Mad Scientist; Mona Lisa and Chinese Food Have Never Been Better

In lieu of my remaining 2-week sentence here, as well as the rapidly decreasing civility regarding the mom’s treatment of me, I celebrated yesterday. I took a train to the Louvre, and, after searching for a half an hour for the doors, I had a stroke of genius (“The PYRAMIDS! THAT'S the key!”), and went to feed that inspiration with some uber-famous art.

I saw Mona Lisa from afar, among a huge crowd gathered around the roped off area. I saw Venus de Milo, and sculptures by Michelangelo. I saw Egyptian art, and tons of European painters. It was exhausting, but very nice. The Louvre is absolutely enormous, and in two hours I had barely covered a sixth of it. I then commenced to shop. Les Halles is a famous underground shopping area, and had a lot of great stores. I left with a giddy sort of feeling. I just love shopping.

The past week, the only thing that has kept me sane was the invigorating idea that my departure was visible in the distance. I am able to greet horrendous fights and frequent blackmailing by the children with indifference. I enjoy my solidarity by beginning to pack, however slightly. Most of all, I simply adore observing Mom, and watching eagerly to see what her next move against me will be. This past week was a series of mind games and attempts to mentally push me into the dirt; I once again put on my lab coat and ran a few tests to collect data, with a few laughs mixed in.

Wednesday, Antoine informed me that I was taking the kids on a picnic. Nowadays, I receive all instruction indirectly from the children, with whom the mother still talks. I was also informed that cousins would be joining us, with their fille au pair, Daria. Daria and I get a long very well. She is a nice, Polish girl with many of my same interests. Delighted at the news I would be seeing her that afternoon, my spirits lifted at once.

At the park of Langy, the weather was gorgeous. I watched the kids play for hours, with a few moments in between to talk to Daria. She was watching Mateur, 2, and thus was forced to wander aimlessly around the park following his incessant footsteps.

Now, I knew that since the aunt and uncle were in town, the parents were going to go out to dinner. My current count is 3 dinners out and 1 movie sans invitation. So, knowing that they had to invite me to this one (it was too obvious to the other family not to invite me), my day got even better than it had already been.

Once everyone had arrived at home, Mom turned to me and demanded, “Are you coming or going somewhere?” (in French of course). I looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Hm,” I said, pretending to be at a crossroads. “I think I’ll come,” as if I could honestly turn down Chinese food.

Walking to the car, I groaned at the coming awkwardness of sitting next to her in the front seat. But, to my amusement, she ordered Antoine to sit next to her, and me in the back with the other kids. Now, Antoine was not allowed EVER to sit in the front seat. I was always next to her. Mentally, she was toying with me. A demotion to the back seat strictly indicates that I am, by no means, her equal or her friendly acquaintance. Recognizing the beginning of a long tournament of play, I grinned to myself and looked out the window.

I quickly planned my next move. Walking from the car to the restaurant, Philippine began to talk to me about something. I loving put my arm around her, and responded with enthusiasm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mom’s head flick to the side, and heard her curt voice call her daughter over. She the proceeded to chat about something, at the same time putting her arm around her in exact imitation of me.

Quickly, as time was of the essence, I targeted the next child in line, Antoine. I asked him, in friendly tones, what his favorite dish in the Chinese restaurant was. He had just begun to tell me all about this pasta dish that he loved when, right on schedule, Mom snapped that we would not be ordering that pasta tonight. She had already discarded Philippine from her grasp.

At the entrance of the restaurant, Arthur presented me with another stimulus. He gave me a big hug, and lingered in my embrace. “Arret, Arthur… Stop” came her voice. Honestly, it took everything I had not to laugh. What kind of game is she playing? And how dull does she think I am that I am oblivious to her blatant intentions?

Later, she refused to order ice cream for the kids, knowing she would have to offer me some. This is the first time in the history of summer that the kids have ever gone with out ice cream with their parents. In the car ride on the way home, I chose to sit in the back with the kids, though the front seat was vacant. The kids and I talked in low tones, and I laughed whole-heartedly at their silly selves. This chumminess was apparently prohibited; the command from the front seat told us to stop and be quiet.

All in all, all of the tests that I ran came out positive (depending on how you look at it). Mom wants nothing more than to make me feel unwanted and inferior, and wants the kinds to know who is the boss. However, one needs to keep in mind that, though you might drive the car, you are not necessarily in the front seat.

Unfortunately for her, I already called shotgun.