Sometimes the stars line up, or whatever it is that causes people to wake up in a good mood instead of a bad one – good weather, a certain amount of sleep, chance.
Yesterday was such a day. Or, I should say such a three hour window. Because it is not possible to have a two year old and a five year old in good spirits for twelve hours straight.
There was no Kindergarten yesterday. Something about parent teacher conferences and who knows what else. And the weather in fickle Calgary has been nothing short of amazing. So I decided to be super fun mom and take my kids on a little adventure.
‘Should we go on an adventure today,’ I asked my oldest after breakfast. His reply: ‘no, I don’t want to go on any adventures today. I just want to play.’ Charmed, I’m sure.
Eventually he warmed to the idea and suggested we go to Bragg Creek which we visited a week or two ago. Except I was already feeling ‘brave’ venturing out on my own with the three, I didn’t really want to add to that a forty minute car ride and a hike to the creek.
So I suggested a trip to Edworthy Park instead – to the pebble ‘beach’ by the river, so the boys could throw rocks. Because if I’ve learned anything by now, it’s that my boys are never happier than when they’re standing ankle deep in water, tossing pebbles (boulders) about. Which is fine with me, because if I’m outside in good weather and my kids are enjoying themselves….it’s pretty much magical. Throw in some nice scenery and it’s as close to perfection as one can get.
The first order of business was the drawing of the map. ‘So we don’t get lost,’ my oldest suggested. I swear we don’t spend a lot of time getting lost, but apparently he feels like we do. After we drew a map to our destination – which, strangely, resembled the Horn of Africa with an asterisk to indicate ‘the beach – it was time to pack the snack.
Cereal bars, applesauce, and juice boxes. Because, aside from a half-open bag of candy corn, those are the only snack-like things I have on hand. The Gort placed them in his lunch box which he put inside his backpack. And that was it.
Shortly after 11 we drove to the park. ‘It’s a beautiful day,’ my oldest remarked. Yes, it was. That our time in the car coincided with beautiful music, made it more so.
We pulled into the parking lot and began the trek across the bridge, to the beach.Where we promptly sat down on the rocks and pulled out the snacks. Three minutes later the older two were ankle deep in rocks and water; the Hen nearly clipping his brother’s head with a rock on several occasions. Accidental, I’m sure.
Another woman arrived on the scene toting her three children – one of whom had a broken leg. Just goes to show, even when you’re feeling brave, you’re never the bravest one out there. There’s a woman pulling her son in a wagon, while corralling two toddlers just dying to show you up.
We started chatting in the way two adults stranded under similar circumstances tend to do. Apparently we got a little distracted because, after several minutes, a polite Ethiopian man called out to me and pointed to the direction of my oldest son.
Who was in water up to his armpits – because he was following the trajectory of his applesauce container. The irony of this occurring right after I’d told my fellow mom that my oldest was such a ‘cautious child’ was not lost on me.
But because it was a perfect day, he was fine. And he didn’t seem to care at all that he was completely, soaking wet.
We stayed for another twenty minutes while the boys made a rock tower, cooperatively, with their new friend. I guess days like this only happen once in a while so you really appreciate them.
Of course, the day wouldn’t be complete without at least a small jenerous moment. When we pulled up to our house, the Gort jumped out and ran to the front door; a flash of lightning white skin and camouflage underwear. Apparently he’d taken off his wet clothes in the car.
As I gazed upon the boy, all I could think was: it’s (a cuter, smaller version) Spike, from Notting Hill.