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Sunday fun at la rainette's
May. 24th, 2004 10:35 amIt didn't quite started as expected. I got a phone call from a friend, informing me that she would soon be taking her lovely daughters to the Ontario Science Center, and would I be interested in joining them? Having two lovely daughters of my own, I said I would, and started to get ready.
As it were, getting ready included booting Husband out of bed - can't get to the kiddies clothes if I don't turn on the light, and no, the kiddies' clothes aren't in their room, are you insane? There are enough clothes on the floor as it is without them rummaging through drawers whithout parental control. Husband grumbled a little, and was gently sent on his merry way with instructions to bring back fresh croissants (the good thing about waking Husband up is that it takes some time for his brain to catch up with his body, and by the time he's ready to try and convince you to go get the croissants yourself, he's already halfway there.)
As things are, Husband was back 10 seconds later. Fully awake.
Not a good sign.
"We have no car" He bellowed. WTF?
As often with husband, this turned out to be a slight exaggeration of the truth. The car was still very much in the driveway. The battery was dead, however, because one of the electric doors had stayed open all night, and thus the lights has stayed on too. (And no-one visited our car. I love Toronto.)
So. Husband grumbled. He grumbled all the way over to the friendly neighbours', who graciously accepted to help. They got the car started, and he grumbled his way back to our home.
Meanwhile, I heroicly refrained from reminding Husband that he had been the last to drive the car. Or that the electric doors are controlled by the tiny remote-control currently located at the bottom of his pocket, in the too-tight jeans the cell phone already had a heart-attack in.
I am keeping all this knowledge to myself. In case, you know, I might one day need cheap and sweet revenge. Or to buy his silence should I fuck up seriously myself one of these days, which is alas the more likely option. We shall see.
We got the car started (yay!). We bought the croissants. And we drove over to the Ontario Science Center.
Together with approximately 6 million other people.
What do you mean, GTA has only 4.5 million people? Oh, OK then, 4.5 million. Too many, at any rate.
It turned out my friend's cell phone had abruptly conked out on her in her purse (what is it with me and cell phones these days?), and given the size of the place and the human tidal wave pushing us around I couldn't imagine how I could possibly find her, so I gave up and and we visited on our own. (My friend didn't realize her phone was turned off until she was, ahem, back home. Since I had told her I wasn't sure we could make it, what with the battery and all, she had just assumed we were still immersed in car problems)
"Mommy, let's go up to that bridge!" Froglet exclaimed. Well, that was a place I had never visited, so up we went. At the top of the stairs, I found a little indicator blinking an ominous red.
"You have bent the bridge that much", it said.
Excuse me?
This is the rudest thing an indicator has ever said to me. I would like to point out, 1) that I am NOT a baby whale, 2) that I am entrusting my life to that bridge, and I am afraid of heights, and if my presence on that bridge bends it a tiny bit, I certainly do not wish to be informed.
As I was seething with righteous indignation, Tadpole suddenly started to scream in fright so I ran over to her and picked her up. She instantly calmed down. What is it with babies that they feel secure in your arms, even when you are scared to death? Because all of a sudden I knew what had scared her.
The bridge was bouncing.
Holy crap.
The bridge was bouncing
"Look, mommy, look", bouncing Froglet exclaimed in delight, beaming up to me.
Bloody bridge.
I somehow made it to the other end of the bridge, where a screen showed a tiny electron happily bobbing up and down, and the text said: Does your gut feeling tell you what you see on the screen?
I kid you not, that is what is said. Although it took me a while to read it, because of the constant bouncing. *meep*
At that point my German genes intervened and insisted to know my gut feeling, so I interrogated my gut: Gut, how/what do you feel? Gut answered it felt the bouncing alright, but didn't feel that happy about it. Gut suggested I leave the bridge double-quick before it took the matter in its own two hands (so to speak) and found an exit all by itself, preferably onto someone else's shoes.
I fled.
All the way over to the science arcade: a great place for the kiddies to play in, with lots of exotic music instruments closely resembling frying pans with hammers, and they had a blast. My ears were fit to burst.
But in this place, I have an ally and friend: the no-sound zone. Get into the magically insulated tunnel that keeps all crowd/weird music instrument noises out and listen to the blissful silence.
"WHOA mommy, this is SO COOL!"
Or not.
Because it doesn't work, of course, if you bring your own, portable source of noise.
Sunday with the kiddies: priceless. But fear Teh Bouncing Bridge of Doom.
As it were, getting ready included booting Husband out of bed - can't get to the kiddies clothes if I don't turn on the light, and no, the kiddies' clothes aren't in their room, are you insane? There are enough clothes on the floor as it is without them rummaging through drawers whithout parental control. Husband grumbled a little, and was gently sent on his merry way with instructions to bring back fresh croissants (the good thing about waking Husband up is that it takes some time for his brain to catch up with his body, and by the time he's ready to try and convince you to go get the croissants yourself, he's already halfway there.)
As things are, Husband was back 10 seconds later. Fully awake.
Not a good sign.
"We have no car" He bellowed. WTF?
As often with husband, this turned out to be a slight exaggeration of the truth. The car was still very much in the driveway. The battery was dead, however, because one of the electric doors had stayed open all night, and thus the lights has stayed on too. (And no-one visited our car. I love Toronto.)
So. Husband grumbled. He grumbled all the way over to the friendly neighbours', who graciously accepted to help. They got the car started, and he grumbled his way back to our home.
Meanwhile, I heroicly refrained from reminding Husband that he had been the last to drive the car. Or that the electric doors are controlled by the tiny remote-control currently located at the bottom of his pocket, in the too-tight jeans the cell phone already had a heart-attack in.
I am keeping all this knowledge to myself. In case, you know, I might one day need cheap and sweet revenge. Or to buy his silence should I fuck up seriously myself one of these days, which is alas the more likely option. We shall see.
We got the car started (yay!). We bought the croissants. And we drove over to the Ontario Science Center.
Together with approximately 6 million other people.
What do you mean, GTA has only 4.5 million people? Oh, OK then, 4.5 million. Too many, at any rate.
It turned out my friend's cell phone had abruptly conked out on her in her purse (what is it with me and cell phones these days?), and given the size of the place and the human tidal wave pushing us around I couldn't imagine how I could possibly find her, so I gave up and and we visited on our own. (My friend didn't realize her phone was turned off until she was, ahem, back home. Since I had told her I wasn't sure we could make it, what with the battery and all, she had just assumed we were still immersed in car problems)
"Mommy, let's go up to that bridge!" Froglet exclaimed. Well, that was a place I had never visited, so up we went. At the top of the stairs, I found a little indicator blinking an ominous red.
"You have bent the bridge that much", it said.
Excuse me?
This is the rudest thing an indicator has ever said to me. I would like to point out, 1) that I am NOT a baby whale, 2) that I am entrusting my life to that bridge, and I am afraid of heights, and if my presence on that bridge bends it a tiny bit, I certainly do not wish to be informed.
As I was seething with righteous indignation, Tadpole suddenly started to scream in fright so I ran over to her and picked her up. She instantly calmed down. What is it with babies that they feel secure in your arms, even when you are scared to death? Because all of a sudden I knew what had scared her.
The bridge was bouncing.
Holy crap.
The bridge was bouncing
"Look, mommy, look", bouncing Froglet exclaimed in delight, beaming up to me.
Bloody bridge.
I somehow made it to the other end of the bridge, where a screen showed a tiny electron happily bobbing up and down, and the text said: Does your gut feeling tell you what you see on the screen?
I kid you not, that is what is said. Although it took me a while to read it, because of the constant bouncing. *meep*
At that point my German genes intervened and insisted to know my gut feeling, so I interrogated my gut: Gut, how/what do you feel? Gut answered it felt the bouncing alright, but didn't feel that happy about it. Gut suggested I leave the bridge double-quick before it took the matter in its own two hands (so to speak) and found an exit all by itself, preferably onto someone else's shoes.
I fled.
All the way over to the science arcade: a great place for the kiddies to play in, with lots of exotic music instruments closely resembling frying pans with hammers, and they had a blast. My ears were fit to burst.
But in this place, I have an ally and friend: the no-sound zone. Get into the magically insulated tunnel that keeps all crowd/weird music instrument noises out and listen to the blissful silence.
"WHOA mommy, this is SO COOL!"
Or not.
Because it doesn't work, of course, if you bring your own, portable source of noise.
Sunday with the kiddies: priceless. But fear Teh Bouncing Bridge of Doom.
