Eugene Levy, maple taffy and beavertail backlash

(If you missed them, here are part one and part two of our Winterlude 2010 fun.)

In this, the final Winterlude post -for, I'm sure, the entire blogosphere (since most people would've posted about it back in February!)- we bring you the Ottawa side of the river.

The afternoon started off at the National Arts Center and a family concert hosted by Eugene Levy (yes, THE Eugene Levy! FROM GHOSTBUSTERS!). I'd won tickets in a draw over at the Fishbowl and was super excited to take the family. Music, theatre and the arts in general were always such a huge part of my life growing up (I was a band geek, remember??) that it makes me kind of sad that we aren't able to expose the boys to more of it. 

Part of the issue is financial, the rest is pure logistics. What's the point of paying to take a toddler (who's in a constant state of perpetual motion) AND a three year old (who has the attention span of a Jack Russell terrier) to the symphony or a theatre production?? Well the NAC has come up with some great family oriented events that are meant to introduce children to the arts, and it was to such an event that we went that Saturday afternoon.

After parking the van at the Rideau Centre and walking at a forced march a brisk pace to ensure we wouldn't be late, we got our tickets and made our way up to find out seats. Liam and Simon were both excited, Liam moreso from his experience at the Globe Theatre in Regina over Christmas (we saw a production of Peter Pan in the round and he LOVED it!), and Andrew was enthralled with the flip down auditorium seats.

A few minutes into the program, something happened.

We were quietly sitting, enjoying the music, when our olfactory senses were hit full on by a smell so terrible, so utterly stomach-churning that, in our shock and offence we briefly discussed getting up and either moving or leaving all together. After a few minutes (and some intense fanning with our folded up programs) the scent dissipated enough that our eyes stopped watering we were able to once again focus on the performers... only to once again be thrown into a gasping stupor when we were hit by a second, even more rank onslaught.

Peter and I could only stare at each other, wide eyed, wondering WHO COULD POSSIBLY PRODUCE SUCH. A. SMELL.

Imagine...

Imagine our horror to discover that this unbelievable rankness, this stench, was coming, not from the deepest, darkest PIT OF HELL, but from the bowels of our own dear son!

And then in an instant the memories of the afternoon (and night) before came back to us. We'd fed this sweet allergy-riden boy wheat, butter, non-hydrogenated vegetable oils, and refined white sugar not once, BUT TWICE, the day before... in the form of beavertails. And we paid for it. Dearly.

No more beavertails for Simon!

After the concert, we bundled back up and headed over to the Rideau Canal to watch the skaters and wander through the ice sculpture gardens. We treated the boys to some much easier-on-the-bowels maple taffy sticks.

Liam had forgotten his mittens in the car. Good thing moms are 

invincible and don't feel cold and can therefore lend out their mitts.

After a quick hand wipe, we headed back over the canal and to the van. The fresh air did us all good (*see above).

A view of the canal. See the Poutine chalet? Is there anything more Canadian than spending an afternoon at Winterlude on the Rideau Canal, eating poutine and beavertails while sipping a hot double double from Tim's? I think not.

(Not that we did all those things. I'm just saying.)

I couldn't resist posting this last picture. See that look? SOMEONE'S TOTALLY IN TROUBLE. Ha! Love you, hon!