France, Day 7

Today, we headed to Montmartre, which was one of our favorite parts of Paris. Perhaps it was Sacre Coeur looming high on the hill, the wide streets or the transformation from red light district to what it is today... truly and uniquely Paris.

Or, it might have been that Grant and Grace had birthday experiences there that they will always remember.

Bret dropped Grace and me off on the north side of the arrondissement two hours before our appointment while he and the boys went off for their own adventure. Grace and I shopped and ate before landing at our macaroon baking class. Anyone who knows Grace knows that she is French cookie obsessed, and I looked all over Paris for a baking class in English that would allow her to join.

Thankfully, I found a spot willing to overlook her age, and I am so glad I did because she had the time of her life. The instructor, Chef Sarah, was raised in the States but had moved to Paris fifteen years ago to study French pastries. There was only one other student in the class, so it was basically a private tutorial. We made three types of cookies, three fillings, and walked away with almost 90 macaroons. It was madness... but in the best way. It was so fun, and I would suggest anyone visiting Paris consider some sort of cooking class. When we were done, we hiked up and over Montmartre to find the boys.

The boys had been busy riding a carousel and visiting Sacre Coeur. But their final stop was a Secret Food tour for Grant's birthday, and my boys did me proud. They walked from chocolate shop, to pastry shop, to cheese shop, sampling and trying everything. The tour guide was incredibly informative, and Grant soaked it up, relating to me historical and cultural facts upon reuniting.

Once done walking around the district, the boys returned to a cellar to eat. They tried mild cheeses, blue cheeses and even a "weapon of mass destruction" cheese which Bret said was so strong he could hardly put it on his plate. But my two other boys gobbled up the cheese covered in mold. Next up, Goose and pate and something in pig's intestine. Check. Downed by all my boys, putting those other Americans to shame. The guide said he had never seen anything quite like it. When Bret left the cellar to send me a text, Grant and Trent were both fighting over who got the rest of the intestine. Proud mama, I think.

Tomorrow is our last day, and we are torn on what to do. I just know it will involve eating 20 macaroons each.