This could be the year I finally confess to my children that I’ve been the co-conspirator of an elaborate, well-intentioned scheme to deceive them since birth. I fear being found out because it means the end of Christmas innocence for my daughter, 11, and son, 9. But I must come clean and tell them: There is no Santa Claus . . .
Three French Bakeries:
As I write this, I’m sitting in a quaint café along the Champs-Elysées in Paris . . .
. . . savoring a delectable breakfast of pain au chocolat and mille-feuille layered cream puff pastry. “Might as well indulge while I can!” I