The Curse of the Golden Button

Sam has a running game going now with a cast of 17 toys in his room. He won’t play it on his own: this game needs a parent to hear the “voice-over” as the drama unfolds. So Jeremy and I have been taking turns flopping out on Sam’s bed and listening to his latest imaginative “chapter movie.” It's a Speilberg-Marvel-Disney/Pixar production.

The game centres around a figure called “Scar Jupiter,” the evil twin of Buzz Lightyear (created by spinning Buzz’s face around in his helmet to reveal the back of his head: a frighteningly featureless face). Scar Jupiter is hailed accidentally into the galaxy of Sam’s room by Batman, who sometimes carelessly pushes the Golden Button on his utility belt (while trying to do something less destructive, of course), thus summoning the rough beast. Scar arrives and inflicts various menaces, including bombing the galaxy so that it’s cracked (Batman should seriously consider removing that button from his belt, but this plot device is necessary to drive this sci-fi adventure.)

Chapter One sees an enraged Scar challenge Batman to a fight that will determine who rules the Sam’s Room galaxy. Invariably, the battle results in Batman being forced into the black hole of the Tonka toy box, being hypnotized, and becoming a powerless pawn in Scar’s cruel games. In Chapter Two, Batman then recruits other inhabitants of the toy box to the Dark Side. In Chapter Three, a wise and powerful transformer named Cybertron reminds Batman who he really is by bestowing the Ball of Power upon him. Together, they take on Scar and force the toy’s head back to its forward position, revealing the amiable space ranger persona once again.

As if this wasn’t entertaining enough, new chapters have been added in the last day or so. In Chapter Four, Sam’s toys ramp up for an apocalyptic fight between the forces of good and evil, facing off on opposite ends of the lid of the costume trunk. The forces fighting on the side of the beautiful and good are scarce indeed: Batman, Cybertron, Chewbacca, a Surf’s Up penguin, and some guy in a leather suit who rides a Wal-Mart motorcycle (I call him Mad Max). They bravely take on a dozen or so who have sworn allegiance to Scar. There are surprising figures among those evil ranks: R2-D2, both the blue and the green knight from yonder castle, Quasimodo (what makes a monster and what makes a man, Quasi?), and the one-armed Power Ranger. Happily, those who trust in the Ball of Power prevail, and the Dark Side is soundly defeated.

In Chapter Five, entitled “Going Home,” the duelling action figures are all friends now, and they just hang out and do nice things for each other. Talking over ice cream cones, Penguin discovers that, just like him, Chewbacca is also a construction worker in the off season. And who knew that Batman taught a kinder-class at the local school? These are the kinds of things you learn when you put down your weapons and line yourselves up in perfect rows on the Original Six hockey blanket.

Chapter Six, my favourite so far, is called “The Excitement of the Lemonade Stand.” Cybertron surprises the whole gang with cups of fresh lemonade--a treat he picked up free from the neighbourhood kids who were giving the stuff away on their front lawn (which is behind Big Teddy’s head). Everyone is thrilled and appreciative of the kind act. No one talks anymore of the fate of the galaxy or of sacrificing themselves for their warring principles. But then again, it’s been a while since Batman has fumbled with his utility belt...

(All rights reserved)

The Meaning of Brown

While sitting at the breakfast table this morning, Sam cast curious glances at my cereal bar. Pushing his bowl away, he casually asked, "What's that?" and I explained that it was a healthy breakfast bar that grown-ups liked. He followed up with "Is it allergic to children?", and I laughed and replied that most kids weren't allergic to them, no, but that some might find them too dry. Did he want to try a piece? He nodded eagerly. I started to tell him that it was sweeter than it looked, expecting him to take a cautious nibble. Instead, he popped the whole chunk into his mouth and got to chewing. Obviously surprised, he slowed down the chewing pace and swallowed with difficulty. Then he pointed to the wrapper on the table and asked, with a hint of betrayal in his voice, "Why are the words written in chocolate?" That would explain it. Given the large dark brown font of the ALL BRAN lettering, Sam was counting on something a tad sweeter. And now he's learned there's no judging a snack by its wrapper.

Close Encounters of the Magnetic Kind

Now we're not saying that Magnetic Hill caused our breakdown: only that it's rather coincidental that we were forced to pull off the road in the vicinity of geological freak-of-nature. Our theory holds until someone points out that the phenomenon of Magnetic Hill is an optical illusion. The steam rolling out of the coolant tank was definitely not a trick of the eye. The Jetta was seriously hot. And it was a shame, given that Sam had snuggled into sleep and Jeremy was snoozing soundly and I was enjoying the drive--everything running smoothly with Plan A until the thermostat shouted PLAN B.

Having let the car cool down on the highway roadside and in a service centre parking lot (while we DQ'd it up. Sam's first taste of the hot eats and cool treats), we risked the 12 kilometre slow cruise to the next exit rather than calling a tow truck and taxi out from Moncton to deliver us all who knows where. With the engine light flashing and the 4-ways blinking, we winced against the possible slow murder of the family car, relaxing as we rolled into the ramblingest, roomiest looking Holiday Inn there ever was. No vacancy? Perhaps we looked like riff-raff? Jeremy rolled the car into one of their parking spots (after I took my foot of the brake: hey!? it's a driver's side reflex! I was tired..! and a bit dumb, yes) and we hurriedly gathered up a few supplies and the still-smiley Sammy and race-walked through the rain to the Comfort Inn up the street. Sam stayed up till 11 watching tv. He's lovin' the hotel life.

Jeremy was up and out before 7, hopeful of a quick diagnosis and fix from Canadian Tire. Sam and I played in our pj's a while and then moseyed about the place for fun and spent some time in strange, circular chat with Dolores, the Breakfast Room Lady. The child ate like a teenager, bringing muffins back to the room to enjoy with cartoons. Breakfast in bed: another luxury he could obviously learn to love. A few back-and-forths on the phone with Daddy and it became clear we'd be stranded in room 232 for the foreseeable future. After shelling out for Canadian Tire's confused shrug, he was having the car towed to the VW dealership. Maybe another night in town? Sam was okay with that.

We played hide & seek for entirely too long, considering that one's choices were in the tub or behind the bathroom door; Sam leapt from bed-to-bed like a maniac for a while, enjoying the surprising freedom of a mother who's not that concerned about bedspring longevity; we played pillow avalanche (8 feather pillows!), made goofy movies and watched disconnected little bits of this and that on The Family Channel. A benevolent manager tracked us down to give Sam a Comfort Inn bear, which he spent a good deal of time sitting on (I don't know why). In short, Sam behaved as tho this delay was as entertaining a pit stop as the zoo.

Jeremy arrived back at 1:00 with the news that VW would have the car ready at 3:00. Turns out the water pump was broken. In half. After he spent some time wrestling his keyed-up son and dog-piling him with every scrap of bedding in the room, we took our appetites to Don Cherry's and ordered up a lunch/dinner feast. Sam happily ate his weight in brownie sundae. As we were settling up, VW called us for pick-up: the Jetta was right as rain (and it was pouring rain). Other than the sketchy weather in places, it was a relatively uneventful drive home. Sam slept like a baby. And 10 hours after we picked up the route in Moncton, we were tucking him into bed in home-sweet-home. A really, really great summer holiday trip in the books.

Gouda for You

And on the sixth day we ate gouda. "That Dutchman's Farm"--a famous Nova Scotia day trip destination--is in Upper Economy, just a stone's throw from the homestead. We spent most of the morning there, enjoying the walking tour and sampling gouda variations (stinging nettle gouda? delish!) in this re-creation of a Netherlands farm. Sam intended to view it all through the weighty binoculars slung around his neck, but we convinced him, thankfully, that it would be super slow going at his far-sighted pace.

First things first: ya gotta stand in the giant clogs and say "cheese!" Sam & Carter hammed this up pretty good (mmmham&cheese). Then we took a quick tour of the shop. Unfortunately, they weren't actually making any gouda at the moment, so we simply window shopped the wheels and checked out the cheese-making appliances (later, we wondered if maybe it wasn't a good thing we didn't get to see how this stuff is made). As we circled past the cheese displays, fresh fudge counters, buckets of Dutch licorice and café sandwiches, Sam remembered that he was starving -- and I remembered that I hadn't fed him for 4 hours. Happily, Grandma picked up a hefty cinnamon tearing bread with lemon frosting, and the eight of us pulled a section from it for a morning snack.

Then we took our walking tour map and headed for the bridge into the grounds. The "farm" was beautiful! There were wild flowers and exotic looking foliage everywhere. It was more like a lavish garden/forest spotted with picturesque animal pens to house the resident goats, donkeys, peacocks, emus, geese, and Vietnemese pot-bellied pigs. Everything was tame enough to feed by hand, and in some cases you could climb right in with the animals. Sam & Carter really loved revelling with the tiny pigs and patting the goats and donkeys. And they were tremendously excited by a cute feature of the walking tour: every time we reached a large directional stone embedded in the pathway, we knew there was a tiny gnome figurine perched close by. The two made a real sport of discovering which tree or post the little gnome was peering down from. The farm knows 4-year old boys.

We finished the route and ducked up the hill to collect golf-watching Jeremy and then head for Diane's Place--a local "kitchen" and ice cream bar near the waterfront that serves up fresh clams and flounder from the Bay. Our raucous party was given its own ante-chamber, but we likely still drowned out the other diners as we waited (a long time!) for our food. And was it worth the wait! Melt in your mouth fish that you just can't get in mid-country. Sam was pretty impressed with the cheese & bacon version of a hot dog as well. Though stuffed, we all found room for ice cream cones: they do up the dairy right in Nova Scotia, too. Delicious.

Down to our last afternoon of pool play and deck convo before collecting up our stuff and packing a gouda and fudge dinner. We bid Grandma & Grandpa and Jacquie goodbye and Tracey and Carter & Anabel good times and hit the road at about 5:00, intending to share the long (l-o-n-g) drive home. Jeremy and Sam fell into a sound sleep until 8:07, when a flashing red light on the dashboard changed our plans!

The Big Red Mud

We awoke on Day Five to the awesome sight of low tide on the Bay of Fundy – 14 billion tons of water emptied out to expose a beautiful terra cotta sandy bottom, sculpted cliffs and seastacks, barnacled rocks, weir poles, and oh-so-interesting crustaceans. We packed up our shovels and ocean-floor footwear and hit the dusty trail. Three minutes later we were on the beach. With the sunshine and sea-smell and luminous kelp winding around sandaled toes, it was like being at a spa. Sam and Carter promptly began digging for clams in the spa floor.

We spent well over an hour following the small tidal rivers out into the Bay; poking around at rocks; unearthing clam, crab and lobster shells; and examining driftwood and other treasures left on the shore. Sam and Carter climbed rocks and sea walls, chased down seagull feathers, filled their pockets with “gold”, splashed and squelched through streams, and looked for the fossilized footprints of dinosaurs. Jeremy was right in there with them for the whole trek, though the sisters hung back a ways at times to chat it up and let our toes sink in the warm mud. When Trace returned to the shoreline driftwood seats to tend to Anabel and keep Grandma company, Grandpa came out on the mud flats for some bay-explorin’ too.

It was a lovely morning. Sam may not have been impressed by the fact that 14 cubic kilometers of water was missing or by the Guinness World Record height of the tide in places (53 feet!), but he was thrilled to spot impossibly small baby shrimp frolicking in tidal pools and to scale rocks that will soon be back under the ocean water. He gamely schlumped about in his winter boots (we couldn’t find the rubber ones), laughing later as he dumped sand and rocks out of their bottoms while perched on the tailgate of the minivan, aka The Spaceship and The Race Car.

On the way home, Grandpa detoured down a seaside road to show the boys one of the results of tidal erosion—a tiny coastal island with trees clinging to it for their dear life, growing horizontally out of the side of the rock. Very cool. (photo to follow). We drove back up the hillside and made delicious sandwiches to enjoy on the deck while we watched all the water come back.

For the rest of the day, Sam and Carter cooled off in the “basketball” pool, sunned on the deck chairs, and played with the pirate gear while the rest of us relaxed in the afternoon heat (and Jeremy hooked fifthwheeldk up to the Internet). By now, the boys had the lay of the land and scurried back and forth between house and cottage and from front yard to side as though they’d spent summers here for years. Another beautiful day!

Welcome to Buckhorn

And on the fourth day, the family reached the east coast. After a relaxed breakfast and some playground time (Sam starring in a “chapter movie” called “Fire Engine Boy,” which saw him sliding bravely down the firepole at the calls for help from various imaginary local merchants who found themselves ablaze), we packed up for the last eastward-bound stage of our Road Trip. At check-out, Sam followed through with his plan to buy a peg & board Tic-Tac-Toe game from the Gift Shop—having slept on the decision to part with the rest of his $20 in spending money this way.

So I rode in the backseat and tried to teach him the game. But the first time I placed a blue peg to block his completion of a line, he frowned at it for a few seconds and then resolutely plucked it from the hole and dropped it back in the cup to clear his way to victory. Same thing happened the second time. So I opened the third match and Sam made it a sport to block me instead. Much better. Till we lost some pegs down the Jetta seats and opted instead for 20 Questions. As the miles rolled on, the games gave way to Star Wars movies. This was the longest leg of the trip at approximately 5.5 hours – or the usual distance to Mumsy & Pop’s place. And it was a beautiful drive.

Finally, we rolled through Lower and Central Economy and on to Swamp Road (yes, many a Shrek fan has stopped to pose for photos under the sign) and climbed up towards the hilltop homes overlooking the Bay of Fundy. Nearly missed the switchback turn up the driveway, but spotted Jake waving us up. Arrival! The sisters and cousins had pulled in just 30 minutes earlier, so we were well timed to set up a slip & slide for the boys, take a tour of the beautiful house and cottage and settle in on the deck to soak in the lovely view and catch up with the down east branch of the family.

Sam and Carter ran themselves ragged in the sunshine and freshest air in the world, then relaxed on the deck before turning their hungry eyes to the new Pirates of the Caribbean figures and Black Pearl ship that would engross them for days: Grandma and Grandpa know what’s what. And we grown-ups had a fabulous BBQ steak dinner and hit the hay with big plans to walk the ocean floor at the next low tide. Of the 20 or so places Mom and Dad have called home, this one is my favourite. Wonder if we’ll ever see it again? ;-)

Of Poop Bags and Pools

The hotel that just keeps giving served up a lovely free breakfast on Day Three morning. We sat in a sunny window overlooking Ste. Anne and les Artisans de la cathédrale, sipping delicious coffee (or chocolate milk). We hoped to be able to enjoy a caleche ride around the old city before piling into the Jetta for the trip in New Brunswick. It was early, however, so we weren’t sure the horses were up and out.

After breakfast, we strolled down Ste. Anne, Sam walking the length of the cobblestone street up on top of the old wall bordering the Cathedral Holy Trinity and smiling at the singers who were performing for those enjoying patio breakfasts. We didn’t pass an open guitar case without Sam shyly tossing in some coins (and then turning to whisper “can I have a turn?” We’ve now promised to consider buying him a guitar).

We spent a few minutes in the square, re-enacting the morning exercises of the soldiers who assembled on the spot 250 years ago. Sam’s march kept breaking into a scamper and I had to plead with him to stand still long enough for a photo. Then we spotted a carriage and struck a deal for a 40 minute tour. It was a lovely ride. The sky was blue, the air was cool and fresh, and the streets were quiet (especially compared to our evening arrival on the last day of the Festival d’été de Quebec– which draws 900,000 visitors!).

For Sam, the clippity-clop of the horse's hooves and the nearly-nonsensical descriptions of the tour highlights (we kept translating into preschool) rendered him floppy, but he was happy to snuggle in between Jeremy and I for most of the trip. I photographed everything: it was so beautiful and storied a place. Of course, at spots the then-and-now discrepancies were nearly ironic: it’s hard to let your imagination run free across the Plains of Abraham while there are workers in the foreground dismantling large pics of Kayne West and Los Lobos. For Sam, the highlight of the trip came once we disembarked and he caught site of the leather sling that catches Kim-the-horse’s “business” before it hits the streets. Now that’s entertainment. I had to take a picture of the horse’s butt just for Sammy.

Satisfied with our visit to Old Québec, the family loaded up the Jetta and called out our goodbyes and our signature ROOOAAAD TRIIIP and followed the pictureseque river valley up into New Brunswick. We arrived at the famous Auberge Pres-du-Lac in Grand Falls in good time, Sam breaking for the playground the instant the doors were popped. While I’d envisioned a trip to the Falls & Gorge park that afternoon, we forgot to factor in the time change, the presence of a pool, and the lure of dinner.

After hauling our stuff to the second floor room and enjoying a little breather on the balcony, we suggested to Sam that he be the lead explorer around the hotel. He gamely marched the hallways and stairways until he discovered the pool. As he started to say “Ohh, I don’t have my…” I pulled out his swimsuit and he leapt for it. The pool was a big hit. We pretty much had the place to ourselves. I spent maybe 30 minutes in there before hitting the sauna and stretching out on a deck chair beneath the skylights, but Daddy and Boy-0 broke the record, clocking at least an hour and a half playing and jumping and getting Sam comfortable on his own in the shallow end. He even learned how to take a wave in the face without sprinting for my lap. For the finale, I shot a 5 minute re-enactment of Finding Nemo, in which little fish lost is reunited with his fiercely protective father. A wonderful way to spend sundown in Grand Falls.

Je t'aime beaucoup

Sam was reluctant to leave the “Pigeon Coop” and head for a new hotel on Day Two of the Road Trip. He’d unpacked his toys, learned the layout, enjoyed a late-night movie snuggled up with Daddy: he’d made a home of this “house that is not a house.” How could it get any better than a fleabag motel on the roadside of Farnham’s main strip? We, on the other hand, had high hopes for Hotel Ste.Anne in the old fort of Québec.

Vive la difference! Bumped up to a junior suite, it was even nicer than we expected. Mahogany furniture set off the double-stuffed and triple-fluffed cream comforters and pillows of the high beds. And I could happily have lived out my days in the washroom: modern fixtures, slate tiles, nice lighting. Ahhhh! We all threw ourselves on the bed, feigning a willingness to sleep through the Québec stop, so happy we were to find the room comfy and clean.

But it was 5:00 and time to check out the city. We did a little touring of the European-style streets, Sam mostly riding high on Daddy’s shoulders. The showers had caught up with us by now and sent us sporadically into a few shops or under awnings, but it was a lovely night still. We happened on a busker performance about to start and took a seat in the bleachers to watch some great juggling tricks: fire, knives, the whole nine yards. Sam was enthusiastic in his applause and prolonged “Woooooo-woo-hooooo!!” Especially so when his tall and strapping father was called up out of the crowd to brace the towering unicycle for the final act.

Starving, we threaded our way back to the Frontenac and tucked into La Crêperie for some Québecois delicacies of a different variety (having stuffed ourselves with poutine the night before). We sat on the enclosed patio, right up against one of the original walls of the fortress. Sam was nearly reverant as he pressed his hand against the stone: he and Jeremy had been talking about the chance to touch something a soldier may have touched hundreds of years ago. And Sam was even more fascinated with the folk singer who was entertaining diners with Francophone favourites on the acoustic guitar. At one point, he laid down his fork, closed his eyes and whispered earnestly, “I love this music.”

We were just finishing up our chocolate hazelnut dessert crepe when the darkened skies split open and dumped a pounding rain onto the city. The awnings shook from the force and rivers sluiced down the fortress walls in the few seconds it took to gather Sam and run into the restaurant. Somehow, the sun was still shining on the turret tops of the hotel—an oxymoronic sight given the ferocity of the downpour. Sam’s wide eyes kept searching ours for signs that everything would be okay. And it was, about 5 minutes later. A large rainbow hung over the St Lawrence as we sauntered, full-bellied and happily weary from the long day, back to those comfy beds.

Going to the Zoo, Zoo, Zoo... (Z-o-o spells Zoo)

After checking in to a rather suspect and smelly No-tell-Mo-tel in Farnham (all of the better accommodations being snapped up on account of some bike race or another), we headed for the Granby Zoo. It was a bright, sunny Saturday, so we expected crowds, but we were happy to find lots of room to roam and take in the sights of Africa.

The first stop was a small pen of meerkats, whose hilly play area featured clear plastic domes that the kids could pop their heads up inside of to stand face-to-face with the little critters. Jeremy squeezed in with Sam to give him the chance to converse with Timon ("so; where ya from?"). Next stop was the most anticipated animal of the tour: the majestic ... zebra. When surfing the web site in the planning stages of the trip, Sam showed no interest in lions and tigers and bears. He wanted to know how many zebras there were. As his smile above indicates, he wasn't disappointed. Zebras galore.

He spent some time up on Daddy's shoulders watching them eat and trot and tail swish, and then we moved on to rhinos, elephants, giraffes, gorillas, lions, flamingos, giant turtles, hippos and camels. He strollered between stops, then climbed back up to his own perch for the viewings. It was a pleasant tour, though the later stages of it were punctuated by the oft-repeated request to head for the play area they called the Jungle Training Zone. Sam heard tell of a ball pool in there.

We spent the remainder of the day in the Amusement Park. Sam ran himself ragged in the giant bouncey tents and wore a path between them and the ball pools. Then we rode the Merry Go Round (which lurched to a quicker than expected start, forcing me to kneel next to the spooked horse and cowboy and whisper them calm), the junior bumper cars (and Sam is an excellent driver, but Lightning McQueen he ain't - kept shouting out "how do I make it go slower?" -- words I will quote back to him when he has his learner's permit), and played a couple of carnival games (winning Granby, the Shark in a game of Leapfrog to the Lily Pad).

It began sprinkling near closing time, so we booked it to the car wondering if the weather would allow us to use the second day of our passes (our $190 hotel package included $120 worth of zoo tickets--enough said about the two-star accommodations!) . But the fates were on our side, and we enjoyed a beautiful morning in the unexplored areas of the zoo. Took the monorail train over the petting zoo, the tiger cages (okay, around the tiger cages), the shark tanks, the monkey cages and the bird huts. We scoped out our key stopping spots, but Sam blew right through "Le Petit Ferme" and past the playful monkeys to zero in on the play structures. The monkeyest of them all. We set up a picnic near the playground and posed as humans in their natural habitat for the train riders peering down at us :)

En route to the waterpark, we stopped to pet nurse sharks. All perfectly safe since their mouths are tucked away on their underbellies. Oh, and they were asleep. Sam leaned over the tank and noted with alarm: "One of them is cracked!!" He then learned all about gills and underwater breathing from the zoologist on site-- facts he turned around and repeated to me as flowing from the fountains of his own wisdom. Very cute.

And speaking of fountains, the Amazoo water park was a huge hit with the pool-averse boy. Expecting that he'd opt for the "calm lagoon, perfect for toddlers", he pointed instead to the cascading, spraying (comparable) mayhem of the play area -- the main feature of which is a gargantuan barrel of water that rocks as it fills with water before tipping topsy-turvey to dump its load on the swimmers below. I don't think Sam noticed that part. He did, however, scamper up on to the structure a few dozen times to whip down the slide into the water below.

If not for the low growl in the gathering clouds, we might have stayed there the whole afternoon. As it was, we barely made the Discovery Hut before the skies opened. The showers came in streamers, so we had time to pack it in and head for the car before the second downpour. Then we outran the storm, driving along the St Lawrence to Quebec City under those little white puffy clouds from the story books. Sam crashed in minutes, leaving Jeremy and I to start sketching out the plot of the best seller/ blockbuster movie that will allow us to live our summer vacation every day.

ROOOAAAD TRIIIIIIP!

Seven days, four hotel rooms plus one "cottage," 2500 clicks, one overheated engine, and a thousand and one great memories later -- and we're home from our first official Family Road Trip, AKA "ROOOOAAAAAD TRIIIIIIIIIIP" - our fave phrase as we bid farewell to one pit stop and hit the highway once again.

Short version? Loaded up last Saturday morning and made the Granby Zoo by 2:00, where we took in "Africa" and the amusement park, closing the place down. Spent the following morning at the zoo and connected waterpark, picnicking there before heading for Quebec City. Checked into a lovely hotel on Saint Anne at 5:00, and spent a great evening in the old city. Enjoyed a caleche ride the following morning before hitting the road for Grand Falls, New Brunswick. Arrived there 5:00 and opted for a few hours in the pool instead of sight seeing in the town. Up and out the following morning and made Grandma and Grandpa Arnold's hilltop home & cottage on the northern shores of the Bay of Fundy by 2:30 on a bright and sunny afternoon.

Had a great couple of days in Nova Scotia with the folks--walking the ocean bottom, touring a gouda farm, piling into a local diner for fresh flounder & chips, playing with cool pirate toys, and hanging out with the family on the deck with an unbeatable view. Hit the road on Thursday evening with plans to drive straight through to Ottawa, but a broken water pump sidelined us in Moncton for 20 hours (and even that was fun!). Arrived home in the wee hours of Saturday morning, exhausted but relaxed and happy and with a sunny weekend left to hang out at Hudson house and get set for the return to work/school. A beautiful trip.

Sam was amazing, and the experience triggered one of those developmental leaps that you can actually see happening in front of you. Once again, we smiled (and secretly congratulated ourselves) at his quick wit, his exuberant joy in small things, his assertions of individual preference, his growing ability to tell stories, to play games. He basked in our undivided attention, seemed to expand and mature before our eyes. In a lot of ways, he came home a different Sam: a Sam who's dug for sea things in the Bay of Fundy mud, who's walked across the shallow end of a pool on tippy toes, who's learned how to play 20 Questions (and kicked his parents' butts at it), who's tried scallops but refused escargot, who's doled out his own spending money on Goodies, a "Canada" fridge magnet that doubles as a calculator, and a peg & board tic-tac-toe game featuring a crocodile in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses.

(Details, details!) I'll spend some time this week fleshing out this too-short story of the best summer vacation ever. Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-am.

You've Got a Friend in Me

A very short bedtime conversation:

Sam: I need to sleep in your bed right now. I don't want to fall asleep in my bed and then go to your bed when I wake up later.

Mommy: Why, Sam? Your bed is comfy and you have a night light and nice music. This is a great room. Why do you like mine better for sleeping?

Sam: Because your room has just a bed in it. The toys don't move in there.

Angie: You think you see your toys move? Which ones?

Sam: All of them. When I look at them.

(long pause, memories of my childhood fears flooding in...)

Angie: My room it is. Come on...

Sam: :)

Mind the Gap

I was in the surgical room with Sam for all of a minute before being booted by the anesthesiologist so the dentist could get to work repairing the nursing cavities that wrapped around the backs and sides of his front teeth. We'd been in the waiting room for nearly 2 hours and had spent another 10 minutes or so in the patient prep area, where Sam played Darth Vader with the mini gas mask so as to be comfortable with the idea of having it pressed to his face. I didn't like the looks of it at all. Issued another silent prayer for the CHEO moms while looking at the stack of tiny hospital gowns and the kid-cheery artwork on the walls.

The women knew what they were doing when they popped Sam up on to the operating table and told me to "hold his hands, keep them down" (expecting him to fight the placement of the gas mask; he didn't). They gave us no time at all to take in the room and get a little comfortable with the idea of IVs and heart monitors and the rest of it. Better not to have the chance to see it all than to get anxious about the equipment and all those people in masks. Thinking back, I wonder now why there were five nurses in the room. Five?

I did a passable job, tho, of acting as though this was a regular part of dental care. And it's a good thing, because Sam fixed his wide eyes on me with the intensity of a child searching his mother's face for signs that would betray her soothing words. Already going limp, he tried to lift his foot up, to show me that someone had clamped a heart rate monitor on to it. I started to explain, but already he was losing focus. He blinked it off and pulled his eyes back to me three times, each time with a little less Sam in them. Then he was unconscious. "Give him a kiss, Mom, then out you go," said the woman in charge of keeping Sam breathing. I'd made a prep room pledge to leave without hesitation at that command. But I didn't expect it to happen so quick! I kissed Sam's forehead with an "I love you" and let go of his hands. As I backed away, his left arm dropped off the side of the table, and I had to fight the urge to step back and tuck it up gently beside him.

I passed Dr Fremeth on the way out the door. He offered a smiley "Give me 45 minutes, and we'll call you back." At the time, I would have given anything to stay in the room, but in retrospect, I know it would have been tough to watch the team thread an oxygen tube through his nose and down his throat, or find the tiny veins on the back of each hand for analgesic, anti-nauseant and hydrating liquids. And the grinding buzz of dentistry is more than I can handle when the drill is boring into my face, never mind my little bunny's. Better that I tried to pass the time reading Oprah magazines and texting Jeremy about how sick and anxious I was.

70 minutes later, Sam awoke with a strangulated cough that sprayed blood across my shirt and arms: the tubing hurt him more than anything else. Limp but desperate, he tried to say "mom!", but only the mmm's came out. The nurses led us to an armchair and wrapped us together in blankets. Sam was nearly dead weight in my arms. It took about 20 minutes of whispering and singing in his ear, but he came to slowly and moaned through the little tests that got us discharged: drank water, answered a question with words, pointed to something.

Strapped into his booster seat for the ride home, he fell back into a drugged sleep that had his slackened body fall so far to the right that I lost sight of him in the rearview mirror. Having been instructed to monitor him closely, I watched him sleep for two hours. He awoke hoarse but happy and ran to the mirror for a look at his teeth. I didn't expect there to be a noticeable repair, but Sam shouted out that his "chipped tooth" was gone (he'd smacked into a coffee table after winding himself dizzy in Noemi's curtains when he was 2). The small fillings had noticeably reduced the gap between his front teeth. A shiny, straight smile.

He admired the results for a few minutes, then this little boy who hadn't had a morsel or drop in 20 hours ate a very, very big dinner.

Ungrounded at the Fair Grounds

Here are a few pics of Sammy enjoying the midway rides at Andrew Haydon Park's Canada Day party. In the first, he's giggling on the upswing of the ferris wheel, as relaxed as if he was enjoying a mere piggy-back ride. In the second, he's offering a frozen smile of fear as his carousel horse giddy-ups its 4 inches of post before plunging recklessly back towards the earth. The twin sides of Sam make fair going an interesting prospect.

Sam has never cared to venture to the second level of the McDonald's Play Place climbing structure: he finds plenty to do on the ground level. At Cosmic Adventures, he sticks close to the ball pools and gentle grade slides, ignoring the sky-high tubing and twirly slides. So when he spotted the ferris wheel from the parking lot (3 or 4 miles away ;-) we figured his interest would evaporate when he got a closer look. When it didn't, I had my money on him ducking out of the line-up as soon as we got to the stairway. That's what Carter did. Suddenly remembered that his mom had told him he wasn't big enough for ferris wheels. I didn't blame him. I was getting a little nervous myself.

But Sam was steadfast. Asked once or twice (or 6 times) if this ride went upside down. Then he handed over his tickets and plunked into his seat. I crossed my fingers that we wouldn't be halted at the top to let on more riders. So, of course, that's exactly what happened. Sam asked if the wheel was breaking. I tried very hard not to look closely at the rusty bolts as I assured him otherwise and braced for his freak out. But he took the "up in the sky" opportunity to check out the full midway and choose other rides to go on. Surprising. When we lurched over the apex Sam gleefully declared, "I'm CRAZY FROOOOOOGGG!!" (thinking of how that character zooms off the end of buildings on his invisible flying motorcycle.)

It was a blast. He narrated the whole ride in his goofy way, once proclaiming at the height of the wheel, "I have a monster under my bed!!" - a nod to the book-on-tape we were listening to on the short drive in. The kids in front of us turned around to laugh. He was the happiest boy on the wheel. Sam, of all kids.

Emboldened by his ferris wheel experience, Sam then decided to take on the Tilt-o-Whirl with Daddy and Carter. They loved it. Until the ride started. Three minutes later, I begged the operator to let Sam off. While Carter and Jeremy looked merely ill, Sammy was terrified. Too scared to cry, his face was a mask of "this railing is going to break and I'm going to be flung to my death" fear. Was awful, but he recovered quickly. Carter proclaimed a number of times, "That was a mistake. We're never going to do that again." He repeatedly verified the name of the ride, committing it to memory on the "Forget It" list. The rest of the morning was pleasant, tho. They went nuts in the jumpy castle; rode motor boats, and spinning strawberries and motorcycles and carousel horses; fed some sheep and goats at the petting zoo; got a maple leaf tattoo; and decided on candy floss as their treat.

When we were down to the last of the tickets, we lined up at the ferris wheel again. Sam's request. He enjoyed a rare opportunity to try talking Carter into attempting something: the shoe is not usually on that foot. Brave as he tried to be, Carter began trembling and chewing nervously on his shirt sleeves as we neared the front of the line. Jeremy gave him the bumper car out and the two of them ducked away.

So Sam and I finished the Canada Day fair the way we started it. With giggles and silly talk and sightseeing together on the ferris wheel. The ferris wheel.