French Kids

I've been a nounou for about two weeks now. Before landing a job with an American family from Boston I was offered a job by a French family whom I did a trial day with. The hours for the French job were 7:30-7:30 and the pay, although good, was a bit less (and taxed), but I've never been too bothered by money- the fact was, the hours were unmanageable. On the trial day I went with the old nanny to pick the two older boys up from school, the nanny brought along a snack of milka chocolate bar (the best!) inside baguette. What a snack! But it's pretty much the cultural norm- every kid was noshing on chocolate bar or nutella and baguette. In Neuilly where I'm working now the playground we go to only belabors the point, the French are crazy skinny and call an afternoon snack bread with a big chunk chocolate bar inside. What were they thinking during the American low-carb craze not so long ago, I imagine they were laughing while they stuffed their faces with warm baguette with chocolate melting inside (the best and original version of this snack)...

But the family I work for, like most upper middle class American families want their kids to eat a balanced diet full of vegetables and fruit. The kids arent really jiving with this, but the dad seems particularly keyed into their diet and exercise regime. The concierge of their building is a bit mad and whenever the kids are coming or going she makes a big deal about them and started the routine of giving them chocolate. This has thrown a real wrench in dad's food pyramid - the kids don't actually have sweets except for yoghurt but this mini sized candy bar leaves dad pulling his hair out. I plan to be the type of hippy dippy mom that gives my kids raisins and granola along with nuts and berries so by no means am I judging him- it's just slightly amusing to be a witness, because he obviously doesn't want to offend Yo-Yo (thats the concierge's name) by telling her no more candy bars- when they first moved to Paris a few months ago, she was a big help in getting them settled as they don't know French.

Still as an American in Paris there it's hard to miss the irony- even the little ones are chicken legs and boney arms against our chunky American baby fat version.