Scots Blood Runs Thick

I had just finished posting my “My Most French Girl” post and then went into Camille’s bedroom to find her engaged in one of her favorite activities.

She pours out her sous from her pig-in-drag piggy bank that I bought her at a fabulously gay store in the Marais in Paris, organizes the coins into separate piles, counts her scheckles, caresses them, then puts them back in the pig-in-drag piggy bank again.

Turns out some of my Scottish blood must have slipped into my middle girl after all.