- Arriving in downtown Victoria dressed for winter on a record breaking 30 degree day (record breaking! It was freezing just two days before) and having to buy a completely new outfit before I melted in front of the historic Fairmont Hotel.
- Waiting in line an hour and a half for Victoria's best fish and chips, then having to run to the car twice (once to pay for more parking minutes, a second time because we forgot to take the keys to put the newly purchased parking pass in the car) just as the (well worth it) fish and chips were served. Ok, Jimmy tells me they were worth it. I don't eat fish. Only chips. Which makes the wait even more mind boggling.
- Jimmy nearly running over my foot as I tried to retrieve our first born from the back seat of the rental car.
- Finding, upon our arrival in Kelowna, that the airline handled our play pen so delicately, they managed to break every spring loaded joint in its frame. Jimmy recommended we just lay our baby on THE FLOOR OF A RENTAL HOME to sleep. Did I mention Gracie just learned how to roll over? So I came up with a much classier solution: buy a playpen and return it at the end of the week. What? We decided the colour palette didn't work for us.
- There were many more incidents that qualify us for the Griswold standard, but I'll spare you and give you just one final escapade. We arrived at the airport for the flight home, and as I picked Gracie up to go through security, I felt moisture. I realized instantly that I had forgotten to pack any extra clothing in our carry on and spend the next several minutes praying it was just a pee leak. Withe bated breath I opened the diaper to see it was definitely not a pee leak, but Gracie more than answered my prayers by providing a pee fountain seconds after I opened the diaper.
Nothing says Griswold like a naked baby in an airport. Nothing. |
There was naked rolling over.
The naked roll over stage 1. |
The naked roll over stage 2. |
And because I know you can't tell on your own: The naked roll over stage 3. |
And swimming. Or swim-sleeping? Either way, very safe, I'm sure.
Birthday parties.
And of course, spaghetti. Spaghetti that had to be inspected, strand by strand, before being eaten.
I'll be back soon with the promised and much anticipated birth story. The story that I swore I wouldn't want to talk about with everyone. But now? You couldn't shut me up if you tried. Actually, you could, if you had ice cream, or chocolate, or cake. Or chocolate ice cream cake. Anyway, I've become the annoying woman who won't stop talking about pregnancy, birth, and her child. I guess that's ok. It's kind of a big deal. At least to me!
"I'm glad I had never heard of a push present! Sounds like a giant scam! Where's my "I got one past the goalie present?!"
Indeed.
Until next time, much love from the Griswolds!
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