IT'S not true that French people eat nothing but snails and frogs' legs. On the other hand, many French restaurants do include these delicacies on the menu, in case anyone wants to eat them. I've never ordered them, nor had all but one of the family party in Paris for my birthday weekend. But the cheap cafe-bar across the road from our hotel had 'escargots' at the top of the list. Our daughter did a quick translation, out loud, and we laughed, before moving on to choose something more appealing.

Then we asked Jonah what he'd like to eat. "Snails!" he insisted. It's all very well being adventurous, but we adults had our doubts. "How about an omelette?" we suggested. "Or pasta? Or a sandwich?"

He was adamant. He was not going to be fobbed off with any ordinary everyday dish. He wanted snails. "Why not?" said his mum, eventually. Actually, there seemed a good few reasons why not, but we ordered them all the same. The waiter, amused, laid the plate before him with a flourish. Half a dozen unmistakable large snails lay there in a pool of garlic butter. There was a basket of crusty bread to go with them. Jonah picked up a snail and raised it to his mouth, shell and all. "No, not like that!" said his mum, who was the only one of us who'd ever eaten snails before. She took the little fork and scooped the snail out of its shell. Jonah, clearly disappointed, bit on it and made a face. "Don't like it!" he said - predictably perhaps. But at least he'd tried, and he did enjoy the bread dipped in garlic butter.

It was up to the rest of us to finish the snails. So, like it or not, we all got to sample them. My verdict? They're very like mussels - chewy and not tasting of much. But if you like garlic butter, you'll probably find them edible. Personally, I'd rather have the garlic butter without the snails.

I must say I was relieved we didn't come across frogs' legs on the menu in any of the cafes where we ate. I'm quite sure Jonah would have asked to try them. We did, though, find something that's said to be even rarer: friendly, helpful waiters. Parisian waiters have a reputation among English tourists for rudeness, but if that's justified, having a child in the party seemed to make all the difference.

Jonah was plied with chocolates, given a toy to play with, provided with a cushion to sit on, brought his food before all the rest of us. It was service with a smile all the way. All weekend we enjoyed good food in a happy atmosphere. What more could one ask for from a birthday treat?

A cake, of course. As far as Jonah's concerned, no birthday is complete without a cake. In fact, the cake is what makes the birthday. When it was his own birthday, last November, the first thing he said on waking in the morning was: "I'm going to have a big cake with candles!" So, to avoid disappointment, his auntie - my daughter - duly popped into one of those tempting French patisseries, with windows full of elaborate, scrumptious-looking confections. She came out with a Parisian version of a Black Forest gateau, all chocolate mousse, cream and black cherries. No candle, of course, but the assistant stuck a 'joyeux anniversaire' label on top in honour of the birthday. It was carried triumphantly back to the hotel bedroom, where we gathered round to admire it. It was decorated with a massive chocolate rose and looked far too beautiful to eat. On the other hand, we could hardly take it home with us. Just in case - the way you do - I'd slipped a handful of plastic teaspoons into my luggage. So I got them out and all seven of us sat on the bed with our plastic spoons and demolished the cake bit by bit. It was every bit as good as it looked and we all ate far too much.

We came home with happy memories, a few photos, and my birthday gifts and cards. Jonah made the card he gave me, all by himself. It shows a large, contented-looking, bright green frog. I didn't quite like to ask, but I do wonder if there's a hidden meaning there. We did go to France after all. On the other hand, Jonah does like frogs - though he's not eaten any part of them so far.

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