On having a holiday

For the last 4 days, our eldest children have been on holiday with Michael's parents. When our cell rang with the call from Michael's dad, we half expected an emergency. "Is everything okay?" I asked, puffing as I had ran to grab the phone. "Everything's fine," said Michael's dad with his thick Parisian accent. "One second." The next thing I heard my son's voice. "Maman, we're having so much fun. I want to stay here!" "Me too!" my daughter added. "This is fun!"

Michael and I have been showing my mother and sister around Brussels. They have been the epitome of the bad American tourists. At one point, after my sister (who had never previously left the states) entered into a heated debate over a cup of coffee with a waiter, Michael and I agreed to ditch the family and do our own shopping.
"We'll meet you at the house," Michael whispered to my mother, "We have the phone!"
We had Conor strapped to Michael's back, and we walked through the streets holding hands, enjoying our first outing by ourselves (with the exception of our sleeping baby). When we were stopped at a traffic light, an older couple came up to us and smiled at Conor. "Congratulations on your baby. Being first time parents is so exciting!"
Michael opened his mouth to explain we had a five year old and a two year old, but stopped himself.
'Yes, yes it is exciting," he said. Then he pointed to my stomach, "And second time parents too."
The couple looked at Conor, looked at my stomach and chuckled nervously.
"You certainly work hard," the lady said. Michael and I laughed all the way back to the house.