It’s late and I’m tired, but I feel like if I don’t carve a few minutes out of the night it won’t happen again.
We had a wonderful family weekend, starting on Friday when I kept the oldest and youngest home and made some porkchops for dinner. Saturday was packed to overflowing, so we cut out the DKC Frolic and just did the Battle of York and the Spring Sheikh, with time at the end for a proper barbecue dinner. Sunday we all went to church, then I took the youngest two to the park while Mason went to the gym. By the time he caught up with us, we were almost halfway to the park: a major accomplishment for a baby who gets distracted by dogs, the feel of grass, and the desire to walk at right angles to the path. I even got some marking done, which reduces my burden from insupportable to merely terrible.
The Battle of York was far and away my favourite thing. This weekend was the celebration of the bicentenial of a fairly inglorious episode in Toronto’s military history, and we went to Fort York to see what was going on. A military parade was listed as the event; what we didn’t know was that hundreds of re-enactors would gather in period garb to practice drill formations for the upcoming re-enactment of the battle. We never did see the parade, but we were more than satisfied with seeing small regiments marching, drilling, and chatting. There were army, of course, but there were also militia members, a drum and fife corp, and Native representatives descended from the original combatants. Our kids ran up the battlements, draped themselves on canons, and marched to their own beat. It was everything I could have wanted from a fort.