Do you know how many times you think to yourself, "I should write this down, or I won't remember it"? That's why I am chronicling our vacation. Q is reaching an age where she is so self-possessed, intelligent, sweet, and fiercely insistent on attempting everything on her own, that I want to remember all of it. Photos help, but a few words can't hurt, either.
Day 1: We stopped at Crow's Nest Lake on the way there to eat some lunch, and it was perfect. Q ran around in the grass, sat at a picnic table to eat her sandwich while she looked over the lake, and tested the frigid lake water by dipping her entire shoe in it. I used an outhouse which was something straight out of a horror film, with a cement toilet that dropped unfathomable depths into the ground and a dim, flickering light right above that was guarded by a small cage.
We went straight to Wasa Lake for Great Grandma's 88th birthday picnic. This is one of the few pictures I got because Q was insistent upon running full speed at sandy slopes and unassuming sunbathers. The gophers, I think, delighted her. She was scared of her 10-year-old cousin with his goggles on, and a grand time was had by all.
Day 2: We discovered that our air mattress had a leak in it, which resulted in Steve and I moving to a different bed at around 3am while Q stayed in her port-a-crib in Great Grandpa's old stone workshop. Later that morning, I found Steve cuddling Q to sleep on the slouchy mattress. Next we went downtown to see the big longboarding competition that cousin Dan was in. Steve ate up all the photography opportunities and got some amazing shots of the racers. It was a hot day, so Q and I shared a root beer float. She also took her pacifier out and rubbed it in the sand by the curb, then popped it back into her mouth before I could stop her. It might just be my new measure of grossness ("Well, is it grosser than the time that Q ______?"). Then we explored the little shops around the Platzl, and Nanners bought Q a beautiful hand-sewn dress from Guatemala.
Day 3: On our final full day, we took Q to meet her great-great-aunt and eat some pineapple cake. Despite being a little cranky, she did well, and even gave her aunt TWO kisses upon departure. That evening, our little family traveled back to Wasa Lake to swim, and Q ate up every moment of it. She cried the entire car ride back because she wanted to go back in the water. This is the occasion during which I found the fabled aviator sunglasses that fit my gigantic-melon-of-a-head. It's like they were calling me there in the sand.
Day 4: Q woke up and remembered in a creaky morning voice, "Go home. See Charlie and Bella." We had a hearty breakfast of blueberry waffles (which Q quite enjoyed, in part owing to the fact that she now believes her last name is Waffle), said our goodbyes, and headed home. We stopped in Fernie to walk around a small pond and ate our lunch on a little dock. Many-a-goldfish-cracker was dropped through the wooden slats. We also stopped at a playground in Fort Macleod for lunch and a little play, and Bow Island to stretch our legs and get a picture with Pinto the pinto bean.
Things I want to remember: Q would become full of energy in the evening, invigorated by all the new people and places. She loved to take the cushions off of the wicker furniture on the porch, set them on the floor, then plop onto them on her bum, laughing. She stomped her feet in silliness. She ate everything offered to her--she's in the middle of a major growth spurt, I think. She dragged the big, stuffed, orange kitty around. Her older cousins made little bracelets for her out of their rainbow loom kits. All the cousins and grandparents and aunts/uncles, etc. gathered on the porch for a big family picture, and we were vaguely concerned that that corner of the porch might not hold us all. Great Grandma would often dissolve into a fit of giggles when Q said something particularly funny. We taught her to say, "Onomatopoeia," which she said as clear as a bell. She spent copious amounts of time trying to put on her own clothes and other people's shoes, at which she was never quite successful. She would pitch a fit if anyone tried to help her (the shirts would hang limply around her neck and her legs would be shoved into a single leg hole in her shorts). Nana's sandals were her favorite to try on. She slept quite well at night, though she woke up early, and her naps were much shorter than usual. She was also much more sociable than she has historically been, and warmed up to various family members quickly, taking strangers in stride (she even gave a very cautious hug to her grown-up distant cousin, whom she'd never met before). We all enjoyed making family vacation memories together. It feels like the best parts of our lives are just beginning.
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