One-der Twins

(See what I did there?) 

My babies turned one two Saturdays ago, and there's been so much upheaval around here that I'm only now getting a spare minute to talk it out.  I managed to carve out the time before our big renovation exodus to pick some key photos from the past year and was basically reduced to tears the entire time I spent scrolling through their sparse photo albums on my computer.

I'm feeling pretty guilty for how quickly the year has gone by and how little I have to show for it.  I can't believe they are a YEAR old.  I can't believe they went from being the scrawniest, most inept breathers and eaters, to the robust (though still on the small side) characters they are now.   I can't believe how much they've changed and how it happened without me noticing, even though I spend almost every waking moment with them.  I'm feeling guilty about how I wasn't present enough with them, and how I wasn't that doting, super-attachment parenting mom, and how the reality of our living situation basically means that they learned from very young to be self reliant and got accustomed to a lot of autonomy.  I'm feeling guilty that a whole year is GONE.  Gone.  Done.  Their entire first precious year, reduced to some photos and hazy memories.  

On a certain level, I can rationalize that it's always going to feel like this with your kids.  Especially when you're as baby-hungry as I am.  But I feel like I didn't soak it up enough.  I feel like I didn't relish every moment with these guys.  I have hundred and hundreds of photos of the Big Yam from my mat year leave with him.  These guys?  A fraction of that.  I wanted to document, to chart, to capture every moment and instead I get a stuttering jump-cut representation of this year.  And guys, really?  It was a hard, hard, hard year.  I know, I'm the original tough guy.  I don't complain (a lot).  I take what I'm given and I plow through.  That's my way.  My low days this year were very, very low.  Maybe it's for the best that I only have the greatest hits reel?

I know some moms who are WITH their kids.  Like, WITH THEM.  24/7 love.  Moms where every cry is answered with a comforting hand on a brow, a shush, cuddles until eyelashes rest on chubby cheeks, where all their actions are narrated for the developmental benefit of the growing minds in their charges, moms who drink in their babes every second of the day.  I'm not that mom.  Sometimes I wish I was that mom - there's a niggling part of me that suspects that those moms have better reserves of patience and unending wellsprings of love for their children, and don't sit there juggling sourcing floor tile on the computer, negotiating with the patio door people on the phone, and organizing oil changes for the car in a paper day timer, while their babies do laps around the main floor, only looking up when their babies pull down cake stands on themselves or the babies are already halfway up the stairs.  

This post has taken me about three days to write and I'm exhausted and I can't pull a coherent thought together.  In summation: I'm sad they're so big, I love them to the ends of the earth, I want to put the breaks on time, I resent capitalism and modernity for making me less able to savour my time with them.  

This year has challenged me in ways I couldn't have imagined.  As far as day-in, day-out goes, I still think my time in a professional kitchen was more consistently difficult, but this year has pushed and stretched me.  I've still got a lot of growing to do and I'm hoping that I can be given the grace to become the parent I want to be.  

I love them so f**king much.

Fin.

Helmut Newton...

...has left the building.

By that I mean, that at our Sick Kids orthotics visit on Monday, Quincess had a head scan and has hit (or exceeded) all the benchmarks we had wanted to.  There are all these vectors they measure: quadrant to quadrant symmetry, the overall cranial vault asymmetry index, etc.  His head circumference has increased by almost 2cm since we started in late January.  It's been so hot these past few days and he was such a little sweatball that we had decided that if there wasn't going to be much projected growth in the next month, we'd just call it now.  Since he's hit all his markers, then we were good to go.  Look at how much his head shape has changed since the first time:

Look at how lopsided his little head was!  

I'll forego the suspense.  After 5 months of 23 hour-a-day helmet wearing, here he is:

Just kidding.  That's Lenny.

 Here he is, for real:

Look at that little sweet face!  

Hanbo referred to Quincess as "Helmut Newton" once and it was (is) the best nickname ever.  He really does look so much better.  The back is still a little flat, but not nearly as pronounced as it was, and the bulging on one side has completely evened out.

I have no time for more - packing up my kitchen and bathroom and today I had all three kids to myself ALL DAY and I am super fart-sacked.  I will say that the brightest moment for me today was when I went to the park with my neighbour's nanny, who is hands-down the best nanny I've ever encountered.  So present, so full of energy, patience, Montessori-trained, ECE trained, so many projects (daily science experiments, philosophy, Waldorf-y type stuff, Socratic method) - she's like, a next-level nanny.  She's young too - like, 25 or something and just loves working with kids and it shows.  So I've been doing the odd thing with her on Thursdays because my neighbour and I had a semi-regular overlapping maternity leave date that I've continued with the nanny, when available.  I had just come back from a peeing-on-the-park-slide reset with the Big Yam and she asked me what I used to do before having the kids, and I told her, and she said she thought I used to work in childcare because I'm so good with kids.

ME, GOOD WITH KIDS!

I've seriously been coasting on that all day, LOL!  I'm on my best behaviour around her, because I want her approval, and guys, it TOTALLY worked.  On a day like today (when I started at 5:30am and had all three kids home with me and it's 10pm and the Dotytron isn't home yet) in a week like this week (when there's so much upheaval and I have to pack everyone up to live out of the home and also pack up 2 major rooms in the house, and project manage the renos in addition to all my other admin), that kind of comment is enough to give me the boost I need to stay a calm, centered, reflective, and present parent.

I'm trying to be less reactionary and more calm (I say that all the time, but this week especially!) because the Big Yam has been having some major regressions and I think it's stress and anxiety related and the thought of him being all stressed out and anxious is like, the saddest.  So before we would react rather sternly to potty-training issues (especially since he's been trained for almost a full year) but we're just trying to be chill, and supportive, and not censorious, and just all around shower him with love and attention because he's obviously going through something and doesn't have the wherewithal to either a) properly express it; b) recognize it; or c) even identify the cause.  Poor little boobla.  It makes me so sad to think of him being uneasy to the point where it's been manifested in physical behaviours.  I think the kindergarten open house last week kind of made s**t really real for him and I think he's stressed about it.

I love that little nugget.

Fin.

All Of The Lights

For the past 3 years my street has pooled resources and done fireworks in the park for Victoria Day.  This year, the woman who usually grabs them was away, so I did the organizing and volunteered to grab them from the fireworks store.  I can't remember what we spent last year per family, maybe $15?

I went to Kaboom! and it was hands-down one of the best customer service experiences I've ever had. First of all, I walk in, and it's like 3 Asian dudes who must have maxed out at age 22, going to town on a late lunch from Domino's that consisted of a THREE large pieces, a bunch of garlic knot things and wings.  A large pizza per person is SO CLASSY, in my books.  Then, one of those sweet kids agreed to stand outside and keep an eye on the van while the Wonder Twins snoozed so I could shop.  Then, the 22 year old store manager personally walked me around the store and helped me sort out a show.  This guy was an expert.  In the past, I think the woman has just bought those "kits" which are pretty lame - a million roman candles and burning schoolhouses.  SNOOZERS.  This guy made sure my show had a narrative arc with a beginning, middle, and end and I will say, that after witnessing the show on Sunday night, à la carte is the way to go.  I went a *little* bit crazy and spent like, $150, but the kid manager totally threw in a million sparklers and gave me mad deals on what I bought.  It was amazing.

People who complain about paying that much for fireworks are also the kind of people who can't appreciate how awesome it is when a kid manager buys his staff a large pizza each.  I would love to work in that environment.  Talk about morale!

We had such a nice long weekend.  Saw friends every day - the Roomie and baby T, dinner with JJ and S, MHui and her fambam, our friends B & G and their new baby.  So sweet!  We went for walks and ate ice cream and went out for a restaurant dinner, all five of us, which is pretty special.  When it goes off well, it's like, TOP OF THE WORLD, MA!  Eating at a REAL restaurant?  That is a feat, my friends.

JJ & S's kids are super-geniuses.  I was being a goofball and I was asking their 9 year old a series of inane questions: "Do you like to eat meatballs?  Do you like to eat giant meatballs the size of your head?" and he didn't answer me, so I said, "B! What, you're not talking to me?" and he said, "I assumed the question was rhetorical."  LOL!  He's NINE.

I can only hope my kids are that smart.  The Big Yam has been trying to figure out a bunch of stuff lately.  "Where does pee come from?"  "Where's my bladder?"  "What belly did Baba come from?"  "What does a Japanese spider crab eat?"  It's hilarious and amazing watching him process your answers.  You can see the wheels turning as he figures out how to phrase his question, and then again once you've given your answer.  My neighbour turned me onto these Youtube dudes called the "Slo Mo Guys" who basically make things explode and record it in super HD and play it back in slow motion.  Everything in that preceding sentence is the manifestation of the totality of little kid fantasies.  When the Big Yam isn't watching hours of ocean documentaries, he wants to watch this:

Meanwhile, the Quincess continues to be such a quiet, clever little lad.  He's like a classic middle child, which is hilarious, because he's the middle child by four minutes.  You basically show him something once and he'll give you a classic Quincess side-eye and then try to figure it out or start to mimic you.  Meanwhile, Lindsay Lou-Lou is, as the Dotytron said the other night, "kinesthetically smart" and then, in a whisper, "the fake kind of smart."  LOL!  Poor Lindsay Lou-Lou.  I don't want to box them in from the time they are babies though, so I will say that, right now,  Lindsay is physically advanced and is very attuned to his own emotions (read: he's very sensitive).

Now, a photo dump:

My garden, 2 weeks ago, freshly mulched and looking fiiine.  

Lendigan just back from the Grateful Dead concert

Happy, crooked smiling Quincess

11 month shot!  So squirmy!

The Big Yam and the babies and I spent all of a gloriously sunny yesterday picnicking in the park.  They've turned out the splash pad water but yesterday was the first real day it's been warm enough to think about getting wet.  Look at that little munchkin' swagger!

21st century manhood

Minds: blown (they can't figure out 2D pics of people they know)

More from our picnic

Lendigan making a run for it

Chicken Milanese dinner on a bed of roasted grape tomatoes and baby arugula

Cinqo de Mayo posole

Meat-free meal - tagliatelle tossed with wilted radicchio and bagna cauda and topped with a fried egg

Mother's day meal: seared rib eyes, brussels sprouts roasted on the grill, potatoes grilled with red onions

That time I ate 2lbs of macaroni and cheese with crispy thyme breadcrumbs

Meat-free meal: roasted asparagus on garlic toast with a fried egg, hollandaise, and leftover thyme breadcrumbs

Stromboli (basically, pizza dough rolled up with sopressata and provolone and roasted red peppers), served with tomato sauce and arugula salad

Alsatian flammenkuchen - caramelized onion, lardon, and crème frâiche on pizza dough.

French chocolate "silk" pie - basically chocolate mousse in a pie crust - I made a pretzel crust but wasn't happy with it.  Next time, will either use a chocolate sablé crust, or the standard piecrust, parbaked.  The filling is worth making again.  Will post the recipe below.

Based on one of my favorite sandwiches from La Cubana - grilled halibut with an avocado-pineapple salsa and a Greek salad.

Fin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

French Chocolate Silk Pie

serves 10-12

1 piecrust, parbaked

1 c. heavy cream

8 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped

3 eggs

3/4 c. granulated sugar

2 T. water

8 T. unsalted butter, room temperature, cut into roughly tablespoon-sized pieces

- whip the heavy cream until stiff peaks form, set aside in the fridge.

- melt the chocolate, stirring until smooth, set aside

- whisk the eggs, sugar, and water together in a bowl set over a pot of simmering water (double boiler style), and whisk until the mixture feels hot to the touch when you dip a finger in it.  Remove, and beat with a whisk attachment or beaters until thickened and cooled to room temperature.

- beat in the butter, piece by piece, then beat in the melted chocolate.

- fold in the whipped cream.

- pour mixture into your cooled pie shell vehicle of choice, then place plastic wrap directly on the surface and chill for a few hours, or overnight.  

- top with additional whipped cream and serve.

Catching Up

Predictably, this post has taken me two weeks to write.

Two weekends ago, I went to Ladies Night with my neighbourhood ladies on Friday night.  We had Middle Eastern food at Tabule.  It was delicious!  I'm super-into Lebanese style food lately and the renditions there are sooo tasty.  Fresh, vegetable-focused, centred around shareable plates and finger foods.  Love it.

Thanks to an armada of babysitters, we were able to keep up our tradition of going to Hot Docs, which has been going on almost as long as we've been together.  This must be at least our 10th year or something.  Our friend L is one of the programmers and hooked us up, large!  We are so lucky to have her and to have such a ground-breaking, world-renown festival in our city.

On Saturday we saw Return to Homs, which is essentially about the gritty, numbing isolation of armed revolution.  It was a Sundance winner.  It's harrowing.  Constructed mostly of amateur footage, it follows a young Syrian football star, Basset, who becomes a leader in the Free Syrian Army.  What started with him leading crowds singing in the streets as part of the Arab Spring movement, it ends up with him leading an armed resistance to the government crackdown on the city of Homs.  People get shot.  It is grim.  The rebels are cut off from food and supplies.  You see the city become a literal shell of what it was.  I was reminded, nonsensically, of Les Miserables and the youthful fire of the young men who lead that revolution, and their disillusionment in the face of losing so many of their peers and the crushing force of the government.  It's so easy to criticize from our cushy remove in the West the seeming chaos and lack of momentum in the wake of the Arab Spring.  When you are a few generations removed from civil war, it's hard to see how entrenched dictatorships can be, and how disorganized resistance movements are.  I kept thinking that this Basset character is just a kid.  A 22 year old kid who is trying to hold a city, with other 22 year old kids.  At a certain point, it's so obvious that they are so weary from fighting, so tired of being beaten into a corner, out-manned and out-armed.  During a lull in the fighting, Basset is asked if he would consider coaching football, when this is all over.  He dismisses it out of hand, "I can't be a coach.  To coach football, you need an education, a degree..." and the irony of the fact that without an education, without a degree, he's trying to re-draw the world order in Syria is lost on him.  This is not the kind of documentary one enjoys, per se, but it is important, and necessary.  

The next day, on a completely different note, we saw a doc called Beyond Clueless, which purported to be an examination of teen movies in the post-Hughes era (late 90s into the 2000s).  I was like, SOLD!  My first misgivings surfaced when at the start of the screening, the "filmmaker" was introduced.  My first thought was like, "who is this kid?" followed by: "oh no, he's British, this can't be good."  Well folks, it wasn't.  Narrated by Fairuza Balk, the film is a stitched-together montage of fare like Bubble Boy, Cruel Intentions, Mean Girls, and The Craft and features analysis that tells us that teens in films are punished when they try to subvert the status quo, or that teens are disempowered by adults, or that teen sexuality is fraught.

UHHH, DUH.  The kid filmmaker as it turns out, is 23.  Soooo, I'm sure you can guess the level of discourse he's capable of.  It was THE WORST.  He must be so loaded.  To get the rights for all those clips (which make up the WHOLE FILM?)  It was so annoying.  If we had stayed for the Q&A we would have torn him a new one.  You know what's worse than British kids?  ENTITLED BRITISH KIDS (Prince George excepted of course).  

So the docs weren't exactly a home run.  BUT!  The Dotytron and I got to participate in a Dotytron-Lagerfeld tradition, and we got to be together, just the two of us, and eat out.  A win all around.  On Saturday we had lunch at my current obsession, Sud Forno.  From the people who brought you the Terroni empire, this place is as close as I've come in Toronto to an Ital-towns experience.  They serve a variety of sweet things, breads, and flat pizzas and sandwiches, and these stuffed flatbreads which are delicious.   We had the sausage pizza type thing, a salami and arugula one, this cold fried eggplant, ricotta, and tomato sandwich (my favorite thing in the world right now), and their flatbread stuffed with proscuitto and more arugula.  This year has been the year of arugula for me.  I love everything there!

Then I went a little bit crazy and spent like $30 on that box you see up there.  I HAVEN'T HAD A BOMBOLONE IN LIKE, 7 YEARS PEOPLE.  THAT'S A LONG A** TIME.  What the heck was I supposed to do?  NOT overpay for delicious, custard filled doughnuts?  Pah!  I also got zeppole which I love, but I could probably make at home (choux paste stuffed with whipped cream and candied cherries), but my favorite thing was the little whipped-cream topped thing on the far right, 2nd row.  It's a little sponge cake with whipped cream and limoncello.  So tasty.  This is what I love about Ital-towns desserts and baked goods: they really know the value of slathering whipped cream on dough.  That is basically the definition of my wheelhouse.  If you were to draw a picture of my wheelhouse, it would be made of dough and an excess of lightly sweetened whipped cream.  The best was that this old school, OG, Italian lady came in and had the internationally recognized grumpy old lady exchange with the staffer regarding how exorbitant the pricing was and all but spat on her way out the door.  She was like, "are you kidding me with $4 bombolone?" and I was like, deeply embarrassed BUT STILL UNABLE TO RESIST.  

The next day we had brunch at The Saint on Ossington.  It's a really pretty space, all sparkling white subway tile, black bar, brass fixtures.  I'm super into that combo lately.  White and black and grey with warm wood and brass with pops of colour.  I tried floating the idea with the Dotytron of painting our downstairs all white and he put his foot down.  We currently have a deep plum accent wall and he loves it.  I'll have to get this black/white/brass fixation out of the way when we finish the basement (so, like, never, or after I'm already onto something new).  

These are more gold than brass and I find the contrast a little jarring.  Maybe if there was more warm wood in there to act as a bridge between the start white and shiny gold?

Kitchen/bath reno is basically a go.  I've got a to-do list a mile long.  There are toilets and tubs to research, fixtures to be brought back from the States (shouts to my sis and Uncle Rico, who are being amazing about acting as a glorified warehouse for me at the moment), a million details to go over (what height for the beadboard in the bathroom?  How to trim the tile?  How to cap the beadboard?  What kind of robe hooks?).  When I've been telling people our (read: my) plan to do the kitchen/bath and then dig down the basement and do the waterproofing all this year, I'm predictably getting a bit of side-eye and bemused-face about the whole thing.  But listen: a flipped house on our street, 10 down from us, sold for $742,000.  THAT'S THREE QUARTERS OF A MILLION DOLLARS, PEOPLE.  FOR A HOUSE OUR SIZE.  The guys who flipped it were super-nice so I wanted them to do well, but when I walked through (they gave the neighbours an exclusive preview), I just thought it was aight.  I actually didn't like the design at all and the finishing was a little shoddy and they didn't even pick high-end fixtures.  The taps were MOEN, people!  MOEN!  FOR $742,000!!!  It was like what a condo designer thinks is a nice layout.  So not my taste.  I'm fussy.  I'm an oil-rubbed bronze kind of a girl, ya know?  I'm a crystal doorknob kind of a person.  I don't want my house to look builder-new.  Anyway, I'm feeling pretty good about our decision.  Even if you figure that $75K of that is due to the market being "hot", we're still going to cover what we're sinking into our renos and then some.  

Where was I?  Oh yes, The Saint.  Food was tasty - the Dotytron ordered the duck egg scramble with duck confit.  His only quibble was that there wasn't enough duck confit.  I ordered the duck egg benny on a cheddar biscuit.  Both come with potatoes lyonnaise, which basically means "potato deliciousness."  I would definitely go back.  The service was nice, they were bumping (we didn't make resos and had to sit at the bar), but they could accommodate kids (saw quite a few families there).  

The rest of my week(s) have been preoccupied with reno business and trying to do some spring cleaning/downsizing/getting rid of baby stuff.  I'm surprisingly unemotional about the baby purging.  I think the fact that in 4 weeks, I'll be bringing in zero money is really helping to motivate me to sell and any lingering pangs watching Bumbos and play mats and such leave the house are attenuated by the cash I'm getting in their stead.  If I have another baby, it won't be for some time, and then I can just re-up all that shiz anyway.  I won't have to buy it because everyone will be in the state of unloading their baby ish.  When you have twin infants, switching over your summer clothes or re-upping the kids' summer inventory or poring over the Ikea kitchen planner for the MILLIONTH TIME will take you weeks of your life to accomplish.  I basically spend my days measuring and writing little notes of measurements and dimensions to myself that I then refer back to, and without any context, then have to re-measure again and again.  FUN.

SMckay came over on Friday and when they Dotytron came home, he became obsessed with trying to sort out a profile to see if he could still get chicks.  This involved him looking through old photo albums to find a TWELVE YEAR OLD photo of himself to use as a profile pic.  This also involved him trying desperately to create his profile with the user name: "URBEINGCATFISHED" which is pretty much the best online dating user name of life.  SO GOOD.  

We also hung with Dr. Rei and Hanbo this weekend and had a hilarious time talking about what 9 out of 10 Serge Tankians would think of anything, as well as how FUBU (for us, by us) Hassidic Jew communities in Montreal are.  There was also an extended, "What the shih tzu" bit that I know means nothing to you all, but I'm recording it here for posterity because that's what this blog is for, and also, because Dr. Rei laughed so hard that she almost had her baby, so it's worth remembering.  

My Mother's Day was pretty boss.  The Dotytron knows what I like, which is to do work, so he made me breakfast and then we went to town trying to get our backyard in order.  It's looking good back there!  I know people probably think we were silly to make such a giant deck, but when we're out there, we love it so, so, so much.  It's like a dock.  It's like having a giant outdoor room.  We moved things around and bought these recycled rubber tiles (Envirotiles) and laid them out on the concrete pad.  We're going to put a kiddie pool and a sandbox there, so we wanted something a little softer on wee kidlet feet than the bare concrete.    I bought a new dining table from IKEA and now we're either going to build a bench out there or have our carpenter do it.  That and a thing to store our recycling/garbage cans and stuff and some plants and we're done.  I can't wait!  

One of the things I asked for was a decent picture of all of us.  The backdrop on this one is horrid, but look at my cute family!!!  Look at how much Quincess' head shape has changed!  

Fin.

Growing Up

Overheard the other day, while the Dotytron was running point on getting the Big Yam set for the day (which involves feeding him a pre-daycare-breakfast breakfast of whatever he's currently fixated on, which right now is PC Organics shredded wheat squares and milk), the Big Yam told the Dotytron, "I don't want my Thomas placemat any more."  The Dotytron inquired whether he still liked Thomas, and the Big Yam replied, "No.  I don't like Thomas any more.  I like all sorts of movies.  Like, like, movies about meatballs." (we had forced him to branch out beyond Frozen on Friday night and we watched Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs together).  He wanted a "lallo" placemat like the ones that the Dotytron and I use.

Guys, if you had told me a year ago (when the Thomas obsession began in earnest) that I would be brought to tears at the notion that I wouldn't have to countenance Thomas' stupid perpetually smiling face and that of all his poncey British friends again, I would have laughed you out of the room.  I hate Thomas (and Friends!)  I think it's the worst programming ever!  I hate the books, the lack of narrative in the episodes, the movies and misadventures brought upon by the trains' lack of judgement.  But the thought of him outgrowing something, made me cry like a baby yesterday.

 

It was exacerbated by an incident I witnessed while with the Wonder Twins at the drop-in centre yesterday.  One of the drop-ins on our circuit is housed in the school where the Big Yam will be starting JK.  I saw two junior kindies, or possibly full kindie kids (white, with that obnoxious bowl cut/Dorothy Hamill hair that some moms love to do with their sons when they have full heads of hair), making fun of this little Indian kid in their class who was sucking on a plastic toothpick.  The boys were like, "Ew! We don't do that!  That's a GIRL thing."  "We do BOY stuff.  Like, like Spiderman!" Thankfully, the little Indian kid was oblivious (which made him SO. MUCH. CUTER), but it took considerable will power to not lay into those little s**ts.  I recognized one of the kids from the Big Yam's ballet class (the boy shows up to ballet in a full Superman bodysuit with the fake muscles) and the past two lessons the Big Yam hasn't wanted to wear his tutu in ballet class and I immediately thought that it might be because that little a-hole said something to him, the very thought of it put me into a murderous rage.

I was so mad/sad at what I witnessed that when the Dotytron came home, I was in sad/angry tears.  People are the worst!  Like, it's no secret that I'm a general misanthrope.  Love humanity, tend to hate individual humans, unless I know you and deign to like you, in which case, you're golden forever.  The idea of the Big Yam being bullied or being made to feel like his interests aren't cool, or being shunned for stupid gender conforming stuff makes me just want to scoop him up and home school him.  As the Dotytron correctly identified, I just don't want him to have his innocence stripped from him.  I think the think that makes those "awkward tween/teen years" so awkward and repellent (to me) is the inbetween-ness of it all.  Not a girl, not yet a woman, etc.  Not innocent, but not an adult.  I guess, in the long run, it's better that the Big Yam be bullied than be the bullier.  But at least if he's the bully, I can do something about it (harangue him into submission).  It's hard to take away the sting of being made fun of as a kid.  Kids are vicious.  I just want to protect him from that, and from the stupidity of their parents' poor decisions.

Last week I went to the Science Centre with the kids with my neighbour and her kids.  We ate in the food court area and I sat across from this like, 8 year old Indian kid, who was clearly pretty fresh-off-the-boat.  He was the CUTEST.  Super-chubby, wearing classic FOB gear, mangled teeth, super-articulate.  We chatted about his lunch (egg curry!) and he was so sweet and kind and oblivious.  Nerdy FOBs are the best kids in the world.  I wish I could turn my kids into nerdy FOBs but you can't recreate that fresh-off-the-boat naiveté in North American-ized, urban kids.

The Big Yam is so oblivious to so many things.  Tonight (this post has been composed over 3 days), as we were coming in from playing outside, I told him to say goodnight to his friends.  "GOODNIGHT!" he shouted, and then just before the screen door slammed shut, "AND GOODNIGHT, WORLD!"  LOL!  So good.  An unprompted "goodnight, world!" with gusto is just about the best thing ever.  I can't do anything about it, but I want to protect him from butting up against people's expectations.  I want him to be able to wear a tutu and it not to be a big deal.  I want him to get into Harry Potter and want to dress up as Professor McGonagall or as Hermione for Halloween and for no one to bat an eye.  I came up with a pretty solid family Halloween costume which hits all the marks - something we're into, not fantastically labour intensive, intrinsically funny, and we were telling Momma D at dinner the other night and she was a little put out by the fact that it would require the Quincess to dress up as a woman.  But here's the thing, if the Quincess was a girl and wanted to dress up as Harry Potter, NO ONE WOULD BAT AN EYE.  It's only when guys want to wear girl stuff that people get all side-eye about it.  ON HALLOWEEN!  A NIGHT WHEN YOU'RE GIVEN LICENSE TO PLAY WITH IDENTITY!  THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT OF THE NIGHT.

Using "devil's night" as a segue, allow me to share a video of the Quincess' particular style of getting around:

He is SO FAST like this.  It's so funny, especially when he's all excited as above and basically skittering around like a deranged inchworm, in and out of rooms and your line of sight.  The video above is also notable because you'll see at the 20 second mark, when Quincess makes his way over to Lindsay Lou-Lou and Lindsay does one of his classic, overly dramatic, super-sensitive wailing jags.  It's also funny when the Quincess comes up against a flooring that provides resistance (like thick carpeting), and he can't leverage the helmet-on-hardwood mechanics.  He plants his feet and does a bridge that would make a moksha yogi envious, in his attempt to slide.  

Long story short: kids are the worst.  Don't give your kid a Dorothy Hamill bowl cut, and let your kids be kids as long as possible.

Fin.