Day 10: Cows and Korea... Kind Of
June 30, 2026
Today we went to Charlottetown.
Somehow Wesley ended up at a farm and Lola ended up in Korea... kind of on both fronts.
The day actually started with a bubble-related incident that required immediate intervention. Or at least what passes for immediate intervention when you've learned to accurately gauge the severity of each child's scream. Lola was screaming for justice. By the time I lazily moseyed my way onto the front patio, I was informed that Wesley had not only dumped his bubble solution all over the ground, but had also managed to dump Lola's. According to two of the three witnesses, he ripped it directly out of her hands and immediately emptied it before anyone could stop him.
It seems that in two year old logic, if he can't blow bubbles neither can his sister. She must suffer the same fate. As a family.
I've been noticing a bit of a pattern this trip where Lola has occasionally presented Wesley as the odd man out during play so perhaps this was retaliation. I have no evidence to support this theory, but if I ever end up working for a toddler CSI unit, I'm confident I'd solve the case.
After the Great Bubble Massacre of 2026, we packed up and headed to Charlottetown.
About twenty minutes into the drive Sophie spotted cows in a field and immediately called an audible. Earlier in the trip Wesley had asked if we could go to a farm to see animals. Well, congratulations buddy, we've arrived. Amazing the things you can pull off when your audience is two years old. The cows were a huge hit. Wesley got his farm experience and we saved ourselves the price of admission. Everybody wins.
Charlottetown itself involved one of my least favourite vacation activities... trying to determine whether free parking is actually free parking or simply an elaborate municipal fundraising program disguised as street signs.
After abandoning my dreams of free parking, I reunited with Sophie and the kids who had discovered a giant wooden lobster near an enormous cruise ship. Wesley has become obsessed with large vehicles and large things in general lately so giant lobster beside giant boat was basically a two year old's Disneyland.
While we were there, a lovely ninety year old woman from the United States asked if she could take a picture. Naturally, I assumed she meant the lobster and immediately began removing my children from it.
Nope.
She wanted a picture of our kids sitting on the lobster.
It's funny how different generations are sometimes. If I asked a stranger if I could take a picture of their children in 2026, I'd fully expect to end up featured in a neighbourhood Facebook group warning others about me.
After we grabbed some absolutely delicious French Caribbean food in the food marketplace and let the kids loose for a bit on the deserted second floor eating area, we decided ice cream was obviously the next logical step. Wesley ordered blue. Lola ordered something that looked like a unicorn exploded inside an ice cream machine which felt entirely appropriate for a four year old. Perhaps most importantly, Wesley successfully ate his entire cone without dropping or shattering it. My faith in the Matrix has been restored.
The kids also discovered plush cows in the gift shop which somehow became necessities. Grandpa's spending money continues to be put to excellent use.
One thing I've learned over the years is that I don't particularly love staged family photos. I take them because future me appreciates having them, but my favourite pictures are almost always the candid ones. Less fake smiles. Less negotiating. Less "look at Daddy and smile." More moments.
The pictures I find myself going back to aren't usually the ones where everyone is looking at the camera. They're the ones where Wesley is completely distracted by something shiny, Lola is telling a story with her hands and Finley is happily along for the ride. Those are the pictures that feel like us.
The unexpected highlight of the day came from a basement shop we almost certainly would have walked right past if we weren't wandering around with no particular agenda. It was a Korean-inspired arts and crafts shop specializing in something called Decoden cream glue. If you're wondering whether I had any idea what that meant before walking in, the answer is absolutely not.
The concept is simple. Pick an item. Pick your glue colour. Pick your charms from what felt like hundreds of options and then decorate to your heart's content.
I immediately thought of Lola.
The only problem was that it could take a while and both boys were conveniently occupied with sleep or boob. Mommy being Mommy immediately saw this as perfect timing. Wesley could nap. Finley could eat. Lola could craft.
So back downstairs we went.
Watching Lola pick everything out was honestly my favourite part of the day. She selected a collapsible comb and mirror, blue twinkly glue and several charms including some Mario themed ones... proud dad moment right there. Every time I'd point out a charm she might like she would dramatically gasp with an exaggerated "oooooo" or "ahhhhh" before immediately adding it to her growing pile of charms like she'd just discovered buried treasure.
The shop owner helped her spread the glue and then stepped aside while Lola carefully placed every single charm exactly where she wanted it. She took the entire thing incredibly seriously. No rushing. No randomly throwing things on. Just complete focus and excitement.
Somewhere between pointing out charms and watching her concentrate on where each one belonged, I realized I hadn't had this version of Lola in quite a while..... not big sister Lola.... not helping with Finley Lola... not sharing Dad with two little brothers Lola.. just Lola.
Funny thing about first-born kids... they don't really get much say in becoming older siblings. One day they're your entire world and then another little human shows up and somehow they just figure it out. Lola never complained when she became a big sister. Twice. She simply loved her brothers and became exactly who our family needed her to become.
Not because I wish things were different. Quite the opposite. Our family is exactly as it should be. But sometimes life gets loud with three little kids and somewhere between the diapers, snack requests, refereeing bubble related war crimes and getting everyone into their car seats, you forget what it felt like when it was just the two of you.
That afternoon it was just me and the little girl who made me a dad..... and I relished every second of it.
The grin on her face while she worked was worth the price of admission ten times over.
Funny how that works sometimes..... you drive all the way into Charlottetown thinking you'll remember the cruise ship or the ice cream or the giant wooden lobster and instead you find yourself smiling about sitting in the basement of a craft shop while your daughter debates where the Mario star belongs on a portable comb.
The finished product turned out fantastic and we were told to let it sit untouched for three or four days. A reasonable request if you're not travelling across the East Coast with an excited four year old who immediately wants to use and show everyone her masterpiece.
Eventually the boys switched into active mode and we headed off to pick up live lobster for our Canada Day dinner the next day. We didn't get to see the lobster tanks, but we did proudly show the kids our bag of lobsters outside. Lola was fascinated. Wesley repeatedly informed us that they were "yak."
Back at our friend's house, we were treated to an absolutely incredible vermicelli dinner that was so good we immediately stole the recipe. Later that evening the lobsters were cooked and the kids got to witness the entire process. Nobody appeared traumatized which I suppose counts as another parenting win.
By then the day had mostly wound itself down... the kids and lobsters were cooked, differently of course, and Charlottetown already felt like one of those days I'd remember differently than I expected.
Roadside cows became a farm.
A basement craft store became a time machine for Lola and I.
Life is beautiful
