Dr. Betsy and Miss Hyde

Betsy is unbelievably hard to wake up from a nap. Much harder now than in bygone days when she took them regularly.

If she wakes up on her own, no problem -- she's just normal, happy Betsy. But if she's asleep and we have to wake her, that's an entirely different story. It can literally take half an hour of irrational crying and yelling Attack Betsy before, fairly suddenly, happy, recognizable Betsy appears.

A recent example of this phenomenon lends itself well to pictorial documentation. We were driving back from our week-long vacation in the Alps on August 7 when we pulled into a rest stop somewhere along the A6 heading north from Lyon. That's when Dave and Cricket had a parental "we must be dreaming" moment: At the other end of the parking lot, totally unadveritized, was exactly what two cooped-up kids needed to run off some steam: A giant inflatable jumping pit. The only problem was that Betsy was a little drowsy and we had to WAKE HER UP. So while Molly's eyes popped out of her head and she sprinted off to do some jumping, Betsy refused to even look at the thing, opting instead to bury her head in Cricket's stomach and whimper (see photo). This lasted for perhaps ten minutes, during which Dave and Cricket exchanged numerous shrugs and tried to convince Betsy that this was really a fabulous opportunity she was letting slip by.

Then, suddenly, Miss Hyde disappeared and Dr. Betsy stood in her place (with apologies to Robert Louis Stevenson). Much happiness ensued.

Language aside: gonflable is the French word for inflatable. It comes from the verb gonfler, which also means to swell up, like an ankle after a sprain, or a lump of bread dough left to rise. It's one of many words that, for no really rational, pinpointable reason, cracks us up, another plus for teh chateau gonflable. Another favorite word is the adjective frigorifique, plastered across many of the refrigerated trucks we pass on French roads. Perhaps we're too easy to amuse!