We arrived at dinner time, and decided to head out on the town with the little pirate in tow. She was thoroughly enjoying our new adventure, having only spent about a day and a half in her car seat so far. We dined on lobster pizza (incredible!) and a fantastic red wine; Chateau Puyfrommage...magnifique! A short stroll after we ate combined with the vino gave us a warm, rosy 'family on vacation' glow. We put the Nub to bed, and we retired for a well deserved nights rest.
Awe, isn't that a rosy picture...
The following morning, we sprung out of bed ready for action! We needed sustenance of course, so we headed to a nearby Creperie to fill our tummies. This is where the tale turns a little south. For those of you who know me personally as well as faithful readers of this blog, it will come as no surprise that I hate stereotypes. (see my post about the party master) It drives me nuts that I always have to be the one to say 'No' when I used to be such a 'Yes!' person. (That's how we find ourselves with a child now hehehe) The Man, who has a brilliant mind about most things, knows little to nothing about what an 8 month old baby can and cannot eat. So...we are at breakfast and the same old thing comes up..can I give her some bacon, can I give her some grapefruit etc. etc. Now, at this point, the little dude has only two teeth, and is (like her Mum) a bit of a gagger, so her solid food experience has been limited to soft things and really tiny pieces of other things. My Man knows this, but insists at every meal to test her boundaries (and my patience).
He asks if he can give her a grape. Really. A grape. I, being sick of saying no, decide to give him a choice and hope he understands, and maybe gives me a break. So I tell him: "Sure, you can give her a grape. Keep in mind, she is probably not going to chew it, so she needs to be able to swallow it whole. Cut a piece that you think YOU would be able to swallow whole, and if you can, give her half that size." I thought this was brilliant! It would physically illustrate how small her throat was, so he would get it! YAY me for being so clever. Or not.
He smiles, pops the WHOLE grape in his mouth, and swallows. Immediately his face goes from triumph to despair. The grape is stuck in his throat. He stands up, and uses his fist to bang on his chest, and coughs. YAY! He has air, so I don't need to give him the Heimlich. (Which is good for many reasons, the most important being that I only assume I know how to do it given the number of times I have seen it done in the movies) The problem now, is that the offending fruit is stuck in his oesophagus.
We quickly pay the bill, and head out to see if he can 'walk it off'. With all the excitement, we now realise that we have blown through little Nubs morning nap. She is not happy. My dreams of strolling through historic streets are coming true, except instead of relaxing, I am putting my screaming baby into a carrier to see if I can breast feed her while walking, and watching my hubby slowly suffocate on a grape.
We briskly walk on the boardwalk, behind the Chateau Frontenac, and I succeed in getting the Pirate to sleep. Most of the tourists in QC that day were lucky enough to see my right boob, from the side which IS the best view. Crisis number one solved. Or so I thought.
As we walked by the Chateau a door slammed and she awoke. After a full 10 minutes of sleep. Feeling stressed and discouraged, we decided to head back to the hotel to get on the road, by way of the ramparts.
Now, this whole time I have been dealing with the babe, the Man has been descending into madness. Finally as we are up on the top of part of the old fort of Quebec-it happens. He turns and looks at me in panic, runs to the side of the hill where it is grassy, and throws up his entire breakfast. "WOW! That feels better." he proclaims, arms in the air. A couple that was coming towards us, turns on their heels and briskly walk the other way. I don't blame them, we look insane.
I have mixed emotions, I feel bad that he had to throw up so publicly, but am happy he now gets why feeding our baby grown up size pieces of food is a no-no. He instantly becomes his old, jovial self, and we head to our hotel to start our driving day.
As we are leaving QC, I can't help but gaze wistfully out the window, and feel an immense sense of satisfaction and sadness. For in the pile of vomit my partner left behind, in the most beautiful part of the old city, was a full grape.
Stay tuned for more tales from the road!
XO
Melodie
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