Long long ago, when I was appointed editor in chief of Marie Claire, two things quickly became apparent. One: I would be spending a lot of time in Paris. And two: I would be in Paris a lot without my children.

Luckily the trips were always inspiring and never lasted too long. In addition to the best vintage stores, the I’ll-just-grab-that-while-I’m-here moments at Colette and the colored butterfly pasta from the Epicerie at Le Bon Marché, I also checked a number of other Parisian playgrounds off the list. And it was a long list.

An advantage of being in Paris with your children is that the sidewalks are super wide and with it’s many busy intersections are trimmed with an iron gate helping to reduce the oops-there-suddenly-goes-my-child-onto-the-road situations. My daughters have known for years that the Eiffel Tower is found in Paris, the name of the river is the Seine and that you ask for ‘confiture’ if you want jam on your tartine.

Paris screamed for my girls and my girls yearned for her. To add to the anticipation, I bought three J.Crew t-shirts with a sequenced Eiffel Tower embroidered onto them during my last trip to the US.

Paris seemed the perfect place to add to our road trip. We booked a hotel with two adjoining rooms in the Rue de Lille and so began the first introduction to the city. “They have given us such a tiny room, Mom,” said my middle girl disenchanted. “Uh, unless you can afford a room at Le Meurice, all the rooms here are very much on the petite side, baby. Get used to it. “Or is it because all the Parisians are so skinny?”, she asked me. All of a sudden those little rooms seemed a touch more spacious. Who knows, honey. Who knows.

With our Espace we drove (roof open and windows down) along the Avenue Montaigne, cruised beside the Seine, we passed the Tuileries and perused the Place de la Concorde. We saw the Champs-Elysées, beautifully decorated. No dear, it’s not for us. The Tour de France cyclists will be coming through here. It became dark and the ladies slept. For me there is nothing more pleasant than driving through Paris so I plugged in the memory stick and listened to Jamie Cullum. I found another great function that lets you control the music so that it can be heard in the front of the car, the kids can sleep peacefully in the back. I could also sit comfortably knowing the child lock was on and didn’t have to worry that one of the ladies, in her sleep would pull open a door. The night was long and perfectly beautiful.

The next day we had breakfast at Les Deux Magots (for a change, next time I’ll go to Flore again), I shopped at Maje and parked my girls in the toy department of Le Bon Marché, while I drooled at Stella and Isabel. We ate moules frites (mussels and fries) at L’Atlas on the Rue de Bucie, watched the sailing boats in the lake in the Jardin du Luxembourg and begrudgingly gave our Espace some rest in the most beautiful car park beneath the Café de Flore. We continued underground in the subway, which could not compete with the Tuileries fun fair.

Heading home from Paris was a breeze. With a trunk, as large as an average Parisian hotel room, chock-o-block with goodies, the passenger seat in full business class mode and cruise control with automatic remote monitoring turned on, before we knew it we drove into rainy little Holland. Let’s call it a cosy and well known drive through car was.