Yesterday, The Husband and the two boys were taking part in the Hometown Hockey activities that were happening on the Dartmouth side of the city. I had dropped them off earlier in the day, and after the festivities, they took the ferry across the harbour to catch a bus home. Our ferry boats are for foot and bicycle traffic only (pictured above) and aren’t large.
ET obviously couldn’t remember the previous times he had been on one, because last night as they boarded the boat, the 9-year-old asked his father…
“Is there a buffet?”
Not sure what kind of lavish cruise he was expecting for the 10 minute crossing.
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Not my children…
With a good quantity of parenting years under my belt, I have realized there are certain things you cannot teach your children. No matter how hard you try, they just have to figure it out for themselves. Continue reading
6 year-old ET, waiting for a pass
I spent half of today at the rink.
I’m not complaining (mainly because The Husband usually shoulders most of the duty) but, once hockey season starts, our weekends are dictated by practice times and game schedules.
When the boys were babies and toddlers, I joked that they were only allowed to get involved in activities to which they could find their own way. I really didn’t want to be one of those moms, driving a minivan with a “Mom’s taxi” bumper sticker.
Well, it’s not a minivan and there’s no bumper sticker, but between soccer, swimming, Beavers, and now hockey it sure feels like a taxi. Continue reading