Boogins: The new Eloise

My friend and former colleague Jesse Kornbluth, one of the best writers I know, has been in France this summer doing some writing. We connected a few days ago, and he was kind enough to send me some of the wonderful emails he and his little daughter have been sending friends. Peter Mayle, step aside, you have competition from a toddler!
Just a few snippets of these wonderful letters:
Dear American Friend,
Bonjour! Boogins again. And, again, things have happened.
Let me start with a social item. And how is this for weird — last night we had dinner at a chateau we paid to visit last week.
Daddy has a friend whose mother lives in the Dordogne. And she asked us for dinner. Daddy said, “Boogins can be…ratty at dinner. Maybe a drink is better.” But she insisted. When she gave Daddy the directions, we suddenly we all realized: She OWNS Marquessyac, which has an amazing view of the prettiest valley in the Dordogne and a garden with 150,000 hand-pruned boxwood trees. (These French! So discreet!)
So off we went, me in my best Gap cotton twin-set. Up the hill. Higher. Higher. A gate opened. And there was Madame’s house, a small building just below the chateau.
I have heard that the French aristocracy beats the peasants and gives them only a thin gruel to eat and makes them wear clothes made of potato sacks, but Madame couldn’t have been nicer. Her other guests didn’t seem eager to know me, but that may be because they are very sophisticated Belgians and dinner at 7 PM to accommodate my need for an early bedtime was NOT, as they might say, de rigeur.

(snipped out here)
Bedtime! Gotta go. Will write from Paris, where, Mommy assures me, things will happen.

Jesse is also asking his friends to support the million mom march , a group dedicated to preventing handgun violence.