Saturday morning, Marche des Capucins:
Me: "What a wonderful way to spend Saturday morning with the girls while the boys spend their vacation with Poulet. Hey, look, an Argentinian empanada stand! YUM!!!!"
Husband, already at the stand because he's about 5 steps ahead of me: "Yes, I WILL have a ham-and-cheese empanada, monsieur."
Me: "Boy, that looks pretty hot. Be careful not to spill that liquid--"
And then Quarta ran RIGHT INTO HIM. The hot liquid spilled on her head, she howled like I have never heard her howl before, and the empanada guy was clearly trying to pretend he had no idea who these disruptive people were. No permanent damage was done -- Quarta forgot about the whole thing after she was bribed with a pastry about five minutes later. But it looks like we have another entry on our ever-growing list of "places to which I am embarrassed to return."