Boy's Weekend

Two weeks ago, Eva had her 'Girl's Weekend' with some of her childhood friends. She got a weekend in a hotel and spa. She got to gossip, chat, have great meals, chat some more, shop, and even make some time for some spa treatments. Good for her. She deserved the weekend away from her husband and son.
Lucky for me, I got to have another long weekend of quality time with my son. Unlike last year, the weather was significantly colder, so it was much more difficult to have easy outdoor activities to tire the little guy out with.

Nonetheless, I started out strong. After picking up Quinn from daycare, we went home, changed, and went straight to the playground. He played in the sand forever. Then, without warning, he started walking away from the playground saying 'Bretzel' (Pretzel). No problem, I thought, the backery isn't far away (and this was the direction Quinn was running anyway).

But wait, I didn't bring my wallet...and I had no change. So, I had to explain to Quinn, under the duress of a hungry child (who was beginning to cry), the concept of money. Without it, there would be no pretzels.
He screamed the whole bloody way home, despite my promises of just going home to get some MONEY. We made it home, and I got out a few coins and showed him the MONEY. We went to the bakery, and he got his pretzel. Thinking I was being a cool Papa, I asked him what he wanted for dinner. He would get whatever he wanted. I was expecting him to say hot dogs. No, he said pizza. No problem, I thought. I had my cell phone, I would call our local pizza joint (I had MONEY) and pick it up right away.

Then I thought, how would I get the pizza home. I was on my bike, and Quinn was in his Chariot (a little buggy that I pull with my bike). I would have to put the pizza on Quinn's lap. I'm not the smartest Papa in the world, but I knew this would spell disaster: Quinn would try to eat the hot pizza, burn the roof of his mouth with the hot cheese, scream all the way home, and repeat until the pizza was torn to shreds.

So, across the street from the bakery is our grocery store. Yes, I admit it, I bought frozen pizzas (pictured below)...and hot dogs for Saturday's dinner.
On Saturday, we went back to the playground. I brought MONEY this time. When he was tired of playing, he wanted a pretzel. So, being the smart Papa that I was (with MONEY), we went to the bakery. Which was closed. No worries, the grocery store is across the street. We got a pretzel, which we started eating in the parking lot.

...then I got to carry Quinn, his sand toys, and his Bobby Car (pictured above) home. Quinn was on my shoulders, eating his pretzel. Needless to say, we got lots of looks on the way home.

Right before we got home, Quinn took a sudden right turn to another playground...he wanted to play on the swing. So (after all, it was our weekend), we played some more. It was already getting cold and dark. I was frozen and hungry when I finally pulled the 'look, the street lights are on...that means that all the kids have to go home' line. I nuked the hot dogs (and baked the fries), and the little man was in bed almost 2 hours later than normal...at 815pm.

Despite some shopping difficulties, it was another great weekend of quality time with Quinn. It was also very nice to have Eva home. Having a weekend of such focused quality and quantity time with Quinn is a very special thing...and I recommend every parent to have such a weekend with their children ... alone.

If all goes well, in a few years, maybe Quinn and I will go hiking and camping for our Men's Weekend.