Paris’s sonograms

Caroline Von Reitzenstein

Paris's Baby Book

I always felt you’d be a boy.  We chose the name Paris right from the beginning because Prince Paris of Troy was the most beautiful mortal man in the world. We named you Alexander after Dan’s grandmother Alexandrina who brought him up.  Try as we did, we had enormous difficulties finding a girl’s name, just in case.  In fact, we didn’t find one until just before the due date.  Had you been a girl, you would have been called Taliesin, after the Welsh bard and also the name of Frank Lloyd Wright’s house.

Choosing your little bed posed a few problems.  We got your basked from Descamps on Madison Avenue, but didn’t know what color lining to buy.  Dan finally decided you would be a boy and chose blue with white animals.

My water broke at 4 o’clock in the morning on Tuesday, May 12th, 1987.  I was so excited I woke Dan and we started to prepare for labor.  We left a message on our answering machine that we had gone to the hospital to have a baby.  The contractions were 7 minutes apart, but by mid-day had not become more frequent, so Dr. Roy suggested I go to the hospital – St. Vincent’s on 7th Avenue and 12th Street – and have the labor induced by a drug called Petocin.  We played classical music on our Sanyo radio and Dan massaged my feet and legs because it was quite painful.  He and Dr. Roy discussed architecture and the possibility of building an extension to her house.  Hard labor started around 3 o’clock in the afternoon.  At about 7 o’clock they wheeled me from the labor room to the delivery room and after three pushes you popped out.  That was at 8 minutes past 7 on the evening of May 12th.  You weighed 7 lbs 2 ½ oz. and were 19 ¾” long.

Astonishingly you did not have a mark or a wrinkle on you.  The doctors said you looked like a cesarean baby because you were so perfect. You had a fine head of dark hair that grew down over your temples and you also had a furry back and shoulders.  Most remarkably, your fingers, when you finally unclenched your little fists, were extremely long.  Everyone speculated as to whether you would be an architect like Dan, or a musician.  Wonderfully creative hands.  You also had long legs, just like your father.  In fact, you resembled him perfectly down to the tiny cleft in your chin.  At that time your eyes were blue, but they were soon to change to brown. So you really didn’t resemble me at all, except for the color of your hair.  But you were beautiful, with a look of great intelligence.

I wanted you to stay with me all night, but the nurses convinced me I needed rest.  They brought you to me about 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning and I put you to my breast.  You were so small with huge eyes and open mouth like a baby bird waiting for its mother to drop a tasty morsel in.  Mostly you ate and slept in a transparent plastic cot.  A lovely Jamaican nurse called Mary sang lullabies to you.  They made me keep you wrapped up in a long sleeved shirt with mittens, a blanket and a ski cap.  There was nothing wrong with your lungs.  One morning they hadn’t brought you to me by 7:00 and I began to panic, so I got out of bed and padded, barefoot, to the nursery.  There you were, screaming for your breakfast.  You stopped crying as I wheeled you back to our room.  Daddy had arranged for a room with a glorious view of the Village.  I don’t think you appreciated it.

The first visitors came at 10:30pm the night of your birth – Mihai and Christine.  Dan and I had opened a bottle of champagne which Anna had given us specially to bring to the hospital to celebrate your birth.  We tried with difficulty to unfurl your extraordinary fingers.  Mihai and Christine were duly impressed.  The next day the phone didn’t stop ringing.  Dan had gone home and made calls to Sandy, his parents, my parents and Anna, even though it was after midnight.  Oh yes! We received a phone call just moments after you were born.  A nurse came in and told Dan that “brother” Gary was on the phone.  Of course it was none other than Gary and Marie who had been calling the hospital all day, waiting for news of your arrival.  They came over that evening and fell in love with you.  They were also there when Dr. “Pinocchio” Rocchio arrived for the first time.  What a pleasant surprise we all had – a young, gay, very fashionably dressed pediatrician who tossed you in the air and proceeded to tell you and us jokes.  Dr. P: “Have they been telling you to give him water?” Me: “Yes, but he doesn’t like it very much.” Dr. P: “Of course not, but they’re very big on water here – it’s a Catholic hospital – splash that holy water around!”

He said you were very long and would be tall – he hadn’t seen your dad.  Others who came to see you were Uncle Peter, who is a lovely, lovely friend and adores little babies – we’ll be sure to have him babysit for you sometime.  Sandy and Diane came by with a bottle of champagne and you sat up with us, good as gold, as we chatted and toasted your health till the wee hours.  Anna came and was impressed by your ability to look from person to person with an expression of great intellect – she also thought your features to be supremely poetic.  Indeed, little man, you were a very special child, quite unlike a newborn.  We all sensed a deep-rooted wisdom, a very old soul behind the bright, searching eyes and we somehow all anticipated an out-of-the-ordinary future where anything and everything is possible.  Paris Alexander – diplomat, author, sculptor, prime minister, creator.  Annie and her friend’s friend came.  And Philippe, your godfather, who stared and stared in disbelief.  How proud he was of you.  The room was filled with baskets of flowers and goodies.  The last arrangements had to sit on the floor for lack of space.

Well, Philippe came to help us take you home, which I suppose was your first journey.  I put you in your Snuggli and you disappeared from view.  At home Daddy had arranged your room (our room) upstairs with your little basket bed all ready.  You cried as we left the hospital, but soon fell fast asleep in the Snuggli as you do to this day (you are 2 months old at the time of writing, but now your head sticks out of the Snuggli).  A few days later I took you to the doctor.  You slept all the way so I decided I could venture further. Within days, you had spent a couple of hours shopping for smoked salmon at Macy’s and had been for walks with me in the neighborhood.  Once in that Snuggli bag, you were out like a light – warm and secure, close to my heartbeat and dreaming of the womb.

August 16, 1987 - Paris has discovered his hands.  For the past week or so he has clenched them and examined them and grabbed hold of everything that comes within their reach.  He has finally started to play with a snake-like red and green toy that rattles at one end and squeaks at the other and has hand grips.  He follows us with his eyes, but is still reluctant to turn his head when we call him.  This morning at 6:06am the sun rose and the planets formed a harmonic convergence which will supposedly herald a new age of peace, love and harmony.  You were awake from 4:30 to 5:00am and I wanted to take you with me up on the roof terrace to watch the sun rise and acknowledge this momentous occasion, but I thought it best to let you sleep.  However, later in the afternoon you fell off the sofa and we ran downstairs to find you screaming on your back on the floor.  You have become such a big boy that we can no longer leave you alone on a small surface.

At four months, in fact on your four month birthday, your two bottom teeth appeared.  We saw one first, then in the supermarket a lady said, “oh what a lovely smile and you’ve got two teeth.”  We looked and another one had magically appeared.

At five months your favorite position is on your feet.  You don’t like to lie on your tummy for long, nor on your back, but you push up to standing position at every opportunity.  However, your balance is not developed yet and you fall over if we let go of you.  Now you start to pull yourself to kneeling position in your crib (your basket is still in the crib and you use the raised end as support.  Your bear mobile is still out of reach and you take one hand and try to bat at it, but end up by falling over.

New Year’s Eve 1987 - Well, my baby, you are now 7 ½ months and a real joy. We love you so much.  Your personality is developing and everyone says you are a happy baby because you smile often and are not very shy with strangers.  We remarked this morning that you have grown lately.  Now when you stand in your crib you are tall enough to dangle both arms over the side.  How handsome you are – at least I think so, so I’m going to send your photograph to some commercial agencies.  I took a super shot of you the other day wearing the Mickey Mouse space suit Philippe gave you.  Maybe I’ll take the roll of film I shot over Christmas to be developed today.  This, of course was your first Christmas.  We stayed home on Christmas and Boxing Days with our beautiful tree and Christmas carol tapes and the new VCR Daddy bought me.  We watched Fanny and Alexander, an Ingmar Bergman film.  You were not aware of the occasion, but we had a good time.  Even when we took you to see Santa Claus at the local shopping mall you took it all in your stride, but were not particularly impressed.  After Christmas we drove up to Woodstock to Gary and Marie’s house.  They bought you some toys.  We drove over to Hunter Mountain to see how the snow was and you watched the skiers open mouthed.  You now have six teeth and three dimples.  We took you to dinner at Nana and Roger’s a couple of evenings ago.  You were extremely well behaved.  They want to babysit.

January 4, 1988 - My godson, Hopi, who is eleven arrived with his father Denis and 4 month old son Booker.  Judith and Stuart also came with 3 month old David.  You looked like such a big, beautiful boy in comparison.  Booker slept in your old basket.  David slept on our bed and you slept in your crib.  You were extremely well behaved.

January 7, 1988 – We took you to Toys-R-Us and bought you your first pair of real shoes – sneakers really.  Also, an activity center and phone.  The next morning it snowed and snowed.  You were a picture, in your sweater and jeans and sneakers, playing in your crib with the phone and toys.

February 23, 1988 - You won’t believe what’s been happening to you the last few weeks.  I put an ad in the local newspaper looking for a babysitter.  Millions of people responded, but we hired a sweet little Texan girl from Houston to come Mon, Tues, Wed 9am-6pm. Well, we saw her on Wednesday and told her to start the following morning, you had just finished “trashing” your room and I was putting the books back on the shelf when I heard a series of thuds.  My heart stopped because I knew you had fallen down the stairs.  I screamed.  Dan was downstairs and he screamed too.  We found you lying at the bottom of the stairs.  You didn’t cry.  I phoned Dr. Rocchio.  You were falling asleep because of the trauma.  He told me not to let you sleep longer than 2 hours.  You woke up after 1 ½ hours in almost perfect condition except for three small bruises on your forehead.  Two days later you were perfectly back to normal.  Thank God.
Cindy the Texan babysitter looked after you for two weeks – we were around most of the time anyway.  Then the third week she didn’t show up.  We found out she had gone back to Houston.  Then you got the flu.  Dan got it first, then you got it in the tummy and were very sick for a week.  Then I caught it from you.  After you recovered we left you for three days with Monica who has six kids.  You played with her baby Vanessa and her sister’s baby Mandy.  I think you quite enjoyed it.  

Just before you reached 9 months you took your first steps on your own, but it freaked you out and you cried really hard for a long time.  You haven’t really walked without holding on to the furniture since then, but we know you can do it, you’re just a little bit afraid.  You now have two more bottom teeth coming through which makes a total of 8 teeth at 9 months.

Yesterday was a terrible day, you woke up covered in red spots that looked like mosquito bites.  We thought you had chicken pox.  We were supposed to be at immigration at 1pm for the final hearing, but Dan had to go alone because I was housebound with you and the judge canceled the hearing because I was not there.  Dan was so angry he fired our lawyer.  At 6pm we took you to Dr. Rocchio (after all the other kids had gone, in case you were contagious).  You looked as if you’d been blown up by a bicycle pump.  Your face and hands were so red and swollen and the spots all over your body were frighteningly prolific.  It turned out to be a violent reaction to pineapple juice.  Dr. Rocchio called the dermatologist for a second opinion and she confirmed it as an allergy.  They had never seen a case as bad as yours.  You had to take Benadryl (an anti-histamine) and Tylenol.  Today the swelling has gone down, but you still have an incredible number of spots all over you.  We drove into the City for Dan to pick up his portfolio from I.M. Pei and then came home.  You started to perk up on the way back and seem close to being back to normal tonight.  Dr. Rocchio phoned to check on how you’re doing.

March 1991 – Paris is three and a half – actually almost 4 - though he says he’s eight or sixteen, or anything other than what he is.  He has recently been moved from the 3 year old class to the 4 year olds. So now he is a very big boy.  Grandma Elena went back to Romania the other day after 5 months – this is her third trip to the U.S.  She wanted to take Paris back with her, but I could never be away from my little boy for long.

May 12, 1991 - On your fourth birthday we opened your money box (piggy bank) and split the proceeds between education or savings money and spending.  (I think there was $50 for savings and $37 for the toy store).  We took you to the mall in Kingston and let you play in the video arcade.  Then you went to the toy store and chose the presents you wanted to buy:  a sword, Batman, Ghostbuster model, coloring book of the Little Mermaid, marbles, bubbles, some toy cars, a video, a writing pad and a Dick Tracey gun.  You were very happy and couldn’t wait to get home to play.  Bill and Betty Westerhoff came over on Sunday afternoon and we had a Ninja Turtle birthday cake for you from Rudi’s Big Indian.

May 15, 1991 – I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.  YOU ARE THE MOST WONDERFUL, GLORIOUSLY ENTERTAINING LITTLE COMPANION.  WE ARE ABSOLUTLEY IN LOVE NOW AND ALWAYS.
September, 1991 – PARIS READS!  We have just move back into New York City from Jersey City.  Gary and Marie told us about a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment in their building, so we moved in at the end of August.  You are going to a new pre-school called New Friends Place on Greene Street in Soho.  Mrs. Hoffman, headmistress of your old school (Play and Learn in Jersey City) was very sad to see you go.  She said you always had an answer for any question she asked the class.  Daddy takes you to school on the No. 6 subway every morning (I think you change trains at 59th Street to the N and R). You get off at Prince Street.  He picks you up again at 5pm and either takes you back to his office on Broome Street, where you play with the computer or interior design samples etc. until I come to get you and take you uptown to our apartment, or sometimes he takes you straight home.  On the subway the other morning you began to read various signs and put together the sounds letters make to form words.  You have been reading letters for a long time, but couldn’t get the hang of phonetics.  Anyway, it now seems to have fallen into place for you.  Daddy says the first word you read was “book” on his American Express diary.  You also deciphered “Do not lean against doors” with a little help.  

October 1, 1991 - Today we read that the date was October 1.  You are full of questions about why there are homeless people on the streets begging.  Where the names of things come from.  When we are going to die.  We watch Rescue 911 on TV so you know what to do in an emergency, but you are equally impressed by the adventures of McGyver and are very concerned with who are “good” guys and who are “bad” guys and why some people grow up bad.

We are still going to our country house in Shandaken at weekends.  You love to run round the house.  This weekend you picked apples from the tree.  You like to visit our French neighbor Mrs. Larre – you are a great flatterer.  You tell her you love her and admire her ring.

December 30, 1991 – Paris is learning to count with a computer program cousin Clemens gave him for Xmas called Math Rabbit.  However, to add 10 + 2 he ran out of fingers and had to take his socks off and put his toes on the table to get the right answer.  Paris was tested at the Westside Psychological Center for the PS6 Gifted and Talented Program and he scored 141 which put him in the 99th percentile or top 1%.

January, 1992 – Paris is skiing! He spent three days in Skiwee and now he’s finished with the baby slopes and comes down from the top of the mountain with no poles.  He’s fearless and fast and loves the sport.

February 18, 1992 – Today I picked up Paris from his pre-school in Soho, New Friends Place on GreeneStreet.  I took him back uptown on the subway and he was very upset that I would not buy him a treat.  He admitted to feigning an earache the night before and for this was being deprived of his usual after-school snack (sweet).  All the way on the subway he was very concerned that I not tell his Daddy (only because he figured he would try and wheedle a treat from him when he got home).  I told him I would think about telling his father about his tricky behavior and told him the story (again) about the boy who cried wolf – however, we had just watched Dances with Wolves, Kevin Costner’s film, and wolves seemed pretty friendly.  Anyway, from the subway we walked to the library to return some books.  I asked for a book on Feng Shui, the Chinese art of placement, but the librarian looked it up and said they had lost their copy.  I continued to look in the appropriate section but couldn’t find anything.  Then, Paris pulled out a book and gave it to me and would you believe it, it was a book of Chinese beliefs and contained a chapter on Feng Shui (Dan is doing a Chinese tea room project in Soho, which is why I wanted the book for reference).  I told Paris his dad would really be proud of him.  We left the library and started to walk home.  Paris was dancing and singing about how proud Dan would be of him finding the book.  Then he said, “finally I found a way out of this mess!”.  I said, “what?” and he said, “this mess with Mummy and Daddy, finally I’ve found a way out.” I realized he was happy because he figured he’d been exonerated and now was entitled to his treat.  I have to say I gave in and we stopped for strawberry milk.  Paris can think several moves ahead – he’ll be a great chess player.

May 7, 1992 – Paris’s last week as a 4 year old.  Yesterday you told me on the subway coming home from school that you’d had a dream you were at school and a mouse was jumping all around you and you got mouse poisoned.  You thought you were going to die and you lay down on the floor.  I asked if you were scared and you said “no,” you were “very mad” because the mouse got you and you were going to die.  You also told me that the reason you don’t tell me everything that happened at school is because you can’t always remember and you feel you have to say something when I ask you and don’t want to lie because you would be punished, so you keep things secret inside you and they are your secrets only.
You look so sweet.  Your hip haircut – long on top and shaved at the bottom – is growing out and your baby curls are starting to grow back.  You are reading beautifully and sometimes I find you in bed with a book, reading by yourself like a grown-up.  You also love to write, but because you are a left-handed you write from the bottom of the page up and backwards.

Tonight I went out and bought you Where’s Waldo cups and paper plates and napkins.  I also ordered you a Waldo cake – chocolate with a picture of Waldo on top.  Waldo is a character in a red and white sweater and ski cap and walking stick who hides in crowded scenes in various locations and you have to find him.  We will take the cake to school on Tuesday for a little party.  I called Philippe, your godfather, to ask about a kung fu dojo for us to take martial arts classes together.  I think it would be good for us both.  Oh – I forgot...your Daddy just said you’re the sweetest thing in the world.  You and he spent a week up in Shandaken together working on the roof of the garage because you had a school vacation.  One day, Dan was thirsty.  You disappeared and came back with a beer in your hand and said, “Daddy you’re thirsty. I brought this for you.”  Dan is totally in love with you.  He used to think that it is not healthy for a father to kiss and hug his son all the time, but nowadays he can’t resist and he’s really proud of you.  He just gets a bit upset from time to time because having a kid is not always easy.  I wish we had a video camera to capture you for posterity, but sadly we don’t.  We’re a bit poor this year because the country’s in a recession and I didn’t work for several months – actually, last year I was managing a Brazilian singer named Mossa, but then I had to get a more dependable job and that took longer than expected.

July 7, 1992
I wish I wasn’t even alive
I wish I wasn’t a person
I wish I wasn’t ever born
I hate the word
I wish I would have been dead by now
I wish I was in heaven
I hate these things about myself and everybody. It makes me dead.  I want to kill myself.  I want to be dead.  I wish no one was in the world.  I wish no one was ever made.  It makes me really sad. –

Paris 5 years
Paris has graduated from nursery school.  In his graduation performance of the Wizard of Oz he played the Lion.  Grandpa John and Granny Noretta were here from London.  Now Grandma has come for the summer from Romania.  Since then, Paris doesn’t want to go to the park or leave the house – he only wants to watch TV and make phone calls.

December, 1992 – Paris, Daddy, Mummy and a stranger in front of St. Peter’s Church at Citicorp.
Paris: Is this a church?
Daddy:  Yes it’s a church
Paris: Then where’s the coffin?
The only thing Paris wants this Christmas is a Nintendo (and he gets one, of course).

January 30, 1993 – Today you had three friends over for a playdate: Adam Lee, Kevin Meltzer and Valerio Russo.  Tonight you were still excited going to bed and unable to sleep.  You told me “you’re the genius, you’re the parent, you have to make suggestions about what to do, it’s your job.” You also told Daddy, “I’m going to hypnotize you” and dangled a red sock in front of his eyes.  
This morning I took you to Alla's house for a piano lesson, you are doing very well playing Ode to Joy.  Afterwards we stopped at Wings to buy a yellow bandana for Hunter (the son of the people I work for who just turned 8 and fancies himself as a rock star).  You had to have a bandana too and picked a red one.  You wore it all day on your head like a pirate and it looked great.

March 3, 1993 - You said:
“I feel I did something very bad.  I feel I don’t deserve a mummy and daddy.  I think I should never have been born.  I feel like dirt.  I would like to kill myself.”
You sang me a beautiful, loving lullaby and made me promise I’d always be near you.

August 19, 1993 – Today you lost your first baby tooth.  It was loose for a while, but this morning you ate a nectarine and it came almost all the way out.  Daddy tried to tie a piece of string around it, but you couldn’t pull the string.  I took photographs.  Finally you left for Lenox Hill summer camp and it came out there – you said your counselor Ralph helped you to pull it out.  Tonight you put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy.

October 18, 1993 – Paris wants to know who made God.  We discussed the mysteries of life and which came first, the chicken or the egg.

July 9, 1994 - Paris age 7 at Felix Bistro on West Broadway during the World Cup soccer match between Brazil and the Netherlands.  We are supporting Brazil with a majority crowd of frenzied Brazilian supporters.  A goal is scored, the table next to us sprays the room with champagne.
Paris:  “Daddy, some champagne landed on my tongue – and I like it!”

July 15, 1994 – Paris:  I have small muscles and a big brain

August 23, 1994 – Conversation at dinner table with Daddy, Mummy, Paris and Grandma re the amount classical musicians make as opposed to rock stars.  Dad says Kissin and Itzack Perlman make more than Mick Jagger. Paris says, “well, Mick Jagger makes $3 million and can reach his tongue to his chin – I can do that too.  I can make big bucks with my tongue and I can put it up my nose!” And he could.

November, 1994 - This was a very important month.  On the 20th you have your first public performance at the Nicholas Roerich Museum on Riverside Drive as part of a piano concert organized by your teacher, Alla Pavlova Nevler, whose compositions were also featured, and two Russian women with a music academy in Greenwich, CT.  About 100 people came including a group of our friends.  You were by far the best (the other students were aged from 12-16), the most artistic, the most charismatic, you had the best stage presence and you played flawlessly.  You were a champion!  Afterwards a reception (dinner and champagne) at home.  BRAVO!!!

Poor Hamsty Houdini died this month.  One morning right before Thanksgiving I had to break the sad news to you.  You cried and were sad all day.  Unfortunately, we couldn’t bury him anywhere, being in the City, so I put him in a plastic shopping bag and dropped him in the garbage can at the corner of 70th Street and 2nd Avenue.  I left some food in the bag for safe passage.  We had only recently bought him a new penthouse for his cage, but he was old and sick and couldn’t use it.  I thought you might like to dissect him to see what wet on inside, but I think you were a bit young for that biology lesson.  He was the sweetest, gentlest, most endearing little hamster in the world.  He even escaped and climbed in bed with us one night.  We used to call him Hamsty Houdini because he escaped so often and I’d have to put piles of seeds in the middle of the kitchen floor and wait for him to come out late at night to look for food – that’s how we always managed to catch him and put him back.  Now his cage is empty, but I don’t think we’d ever find a sweeter pet than Hamsty.

November 28, 1994 – Today you told me you know there’s no Santa Claus.  You’ve been speculating for weeks now and I told you it’s one of life’s mysteries that you have to solve by yourself.  But you told me that you asked your teacher Cynthia and she told you we buy the presents.  I was very upset – not so much because you know, but because she took it upon herself to tell you.  Does this mean I won’t have to give you any more dollar bills from the tooth fairy?

March 11, 1995 – Today you won your first ribbon at the Claremont Riding Academy Horse Show on West 89th Street.  You’ve only had four or five lessons and you hada scare on a horse namedYosemite, but you elected to ride in the Class 2 Solo Walk and Trot event and you rode one of the friskiest horses called Ozark.  You were terrific.  We videod you and then went and bought a still camera and I took photographs of you in your riding outfit with your ribbon which you hung on the wall in your room. Bravo – you are a brave little trooper and always rise up to meet the challenge.

April 18-29, 1995 – We all went to Thailand for Grandpa John’s surprise 70th birthday party.  We stopped in Toronto and saw Stuart and Davy.  The party was in Chiang Mai at Sumet and Ting Ting’s house.  We stayed at the Sporting Club which had an Olympic size swimming pool and a very pretty setting.  Sybille and Patrick and Uwe and Barbro came from Germany, an English couple who knew Grandpa John in Africa, Barbara his ex-fiancee from Wilmington, DE, Claretta and Pauletta from Italy and cousin Johnnie who made a surprise visit from Devon, but was a bit sad because he’d broken up with his girlfriend Sam.  We saw some sights, rode elephants to a hillside tribal village, went river rafting and Daddy fell head first down a waterfall.  Then we went down to Bangkok and stayed at the Shangrila.  It was very hot and you had a stomach ache for a couple of days.  We visited temples and the Grand Palace and took a tour of the canals and floating market. Pissit, Daddy’s ex-colleague from Edward Durrell Stone’s office, came to visit us, but the traffic was so bad that we couldn’t meet up with him for 2 days.  We also couldn’t meet up with Grandpa John.  Then we went to Hong Kong which we all loved because it was clean and beautiful and we went to the beach at Repulse Bay and you and daddy swam far out in the South China Sea to a diving platform.  We sampled the famous shark’s fin soup which nobody liked very much and stayed in a very high-tech hotel with a computer in the room.

October 11, 1995 – You and Daddy went to Romania.  This is Daddy’s first trip back there since he defected 14 years ago.  At first he was going alone, but Grandma got upset because she thought we were all coming and she made Daddy feel bad.  We decided you should go with him, also because you were sad that he was leaving you, but all the seats were booked on the plane and all the other flights were full.  Finally, Daddy found you a ticket in business class and you were very happy (although you then got upset at the thought of leaving me).  You wrote me a wonderfully descriptive letter documenting your impressions of Bucharest.

January 13, 1996 – Paris played in the New York City Chess Championships on the Lab School team.  It was an all-day event.  Afterwards, around 7pm, we went to Peter Rosenthal’s daughter Coco’s 8th birthday party at Peter’s loft on Greene Street.  Coco and her five little girlfriends shrieked in horror at the site of a boy – it was to have been an all-girls event.  Later on in the proceedings Paris was heard to remark, “This party bites!”

1998-1999
Paris left the Lab School at the end of 5th Grade and started Browning in September 1998.  In his first year, he made the Honor Roll, was in the school play and was asked to join the Varsity Singers.  Mr. Mali, his slam poet history teacher, coached him in a slam poem for the public speaking competition and over the summer made him perform it at a benefit for the New York National Slam Team.  Afterwards, Mr. Mali sent Paris photos from the event with a note saying “Paris, you rock the house.”

Here end my entries (copied faithfully) in Paris’s Baby Book journal.  I hope they have given you some entertainment and insight into our sparkling child.

Caroline