quando il gatto non c'e'
i topi ballano
when the cat's away
the mice dance
(an Italian proverb)
In a way that was quite unplanned, when our boy was invited by the national tennis federation to a training camp for selected players these last few days, all the rest of us also ended up taking some special time away from our routine.
Rebecca and I went on a little trip to Milan, where we got together with cousins, aunts and uncles, and where she, as the only visiting grandchild, was pampered and doted on by the nonni. I got to go to a beautiful and inspiring art exhibition on Amedeo Modigliani and the painters in his Parisian circle, who, at the beginning of the 20th century, created art while often living in utter poverty and alcoholism. I discovered some new names, and was mesmerized by the haunting French landscapes and Parisian scenes by Maurice Utrillo, as well as by the colorful portraits by Moise Kisling. Oh, to have access to culture, and to be able to go to an art exhibition at last! I also lost myself among shelves of fibers in the largest yarn store I've ever been to in this country. But generally, I just walked miles and miles around a city I love.
Tom and our big boy had several special father-son days, complete with a dinner out, and some late nights spent discussing life while watching a tennis tournament streaming live on the computer, and ... even skipping school one day! But spending special time one on one with your father is an excellent excuse for missing school, in our opinion.
We're now back together, and back to our normal life at home, but each of us is still a little giddy with all the recent extracurriculars (and we're a little tired too - but happy tired, just like after dancing).