Sometimes all an 18-year old girl needs is to see her dad in a pink bathrobe. We were staying at the Ritz Carlton in Paris and we woke up to the quiet puttering of the rain throughout the city. But, we’re in Paris. Rain in Paris is nothing compared to rain in Boca Raton where the only scenery to the cloud’s cries are pesty mosquitos and aggressively swaying palm trees.

It’s like Blaire Waldorf said, “If you’re going to be sad, you might as well be sad in Paris.” Very well said. Just because it rains in Paris doesn’t mean the fashionable Parisians won’t strut along the Champs Elysse like a model unbothered by the wet inconveniences trying to ruin their day. Just because it rains in Paris doesn’t mean you can’t sit outside under the awnings of little cafes sipping hot chocolate and watching the people under their umbrellas walking by.

Again, sometimes all an 18-year old girl needs is to see her dad in a pink bathrobe. Sipping an early-morning coffee. Eating a raspberry filled pastry that surprised you with fruity goodness when you bit into it. Looking out to the city with the top of the Eiffel Tower peaking between the buildings.

My Dad and I can sing “Wagon Wheel” by Darius Rucker at the top of our lungs, adding lyrics that really don’t belong in the song. My Dad can make me dozens of BECS (Bacon, Egg, and Cheeses) and I still won’t know how to make it but I’ll appreciate the heavenly bites in my mouth. My Dad and I can make weird noises to one another in public even though everyone gives us glares passing by. My Dad and I can enjoy a truffle pasta like no other person has enjoyed truffle pasta before. The point is sometimes you just need to see your Dad in a pink bathrobe acting like an influencer to realize the little things.