Reid and I went out to Eddie’s for breakfast yesterday and then went to the [1] Ottawa Farmers Market - which is different from the [2] Byward Market - for the first time. The colours of the fruit and vegetables were vibrant in the golden fall sun. (I love the sun in the fall!) I’m lucky the vendors only accept cash or we would have come home with much more than we’d planned. Reid found organic granola with sulphite-free cranberries for me, artisanal cheese for her dad and smoked sausages for herself; we left all behind and bought broccoli as big as a bride’s bouquet and a cauliflower bigger than Reid’s head. We got some seedless blue and green grapes, golden plums and ground cherries, too. Our only splurge was some tea biscuits that were to die for. Or to die from, if you’re Ken, who has a stronger antipathy to tea biscuits than I remember.

When we got home, Ken invited us to go for a walk at Mer Bleu Bog and, of course, Reid and I accepted. Okay, Reid accepted after I told her that we weren’t going to watch *Dora’s World Adventure* if we stayed home. She was eager for me to see the usually-villainous Swiper in a helpful role. By the time we got to [3] Mer Bleue, though, Reid was keen for the adventure. I tried to apply some of the lessons I’d learned at the photography class I’d taken at [4] Henry’s on Saturday but Reid and Ken were unwilling subjects and not so patient while I worked with the more willing flora. The colours in the bog weren’t quite as vibrant as they will be in a couple of weeks but the walk was lovely.

After lunch, we - mostly Reid - watched the Dora movie and then we got ready for our first ice skate of the season. Reid hunted up her Senators jersey without prompting and insisted on wearing her snowpants from home, even though it was 24 degrees Celsius outside. At the rink, Reid was hesitant to skate without holding onto me. My *knowing* that she could skate on her own didn’t translate into Reid *believing* that she can. We got a skate frame from the complex and she whizzed around the ice with it. Near the end, we returned the frame and Reid confidently skated on her own. Not fast, but certainly faster, and with the confidence that she’d lacked. I was glad I hadn’t insisted Reid tough it out without the frame. I’m finally learning that sometimes we need to sneak up on a solution.

Our skating adventure ended with a definite high and an even more definite low. When public skating finished, the zamboni came out! Yes, really! I hurried to get Reid’s skates off of her so that she could go up in the stands to watch while I took my skates off. Unfortunately, while I was taking my skates off, someone took off with Reid’s skates. I’m hoping that it was an accident, that the woman will notice them and return them to the complex where I’ve left my name and number, but I’m not optimistic that it will happen in time. We were skating on Sunday afternoon to get Reid comfortable on skates before her first hockey practice/game that will happen this Saturday. Now she is comfortable on skates but skateless. Our evenings are jam-packed this week and it seems I may have to try buying skates at lunch, lugging them home and trying them on. Sigh.

Reid asked me if I was going to tell Ken what had happened. It was a funny question. I don’t think I say, “don’t tell Daddy …” Ken and I just aren’t in the sort of relationship where I need to be afraid of his reaction. I told Reid that I would tell him, that I hadn’t done anything wrong and that he’d find out anyway. I should have said, “Of course, I’ll tell him” and left it at that. I don’t want her to think that withholding information is okay when you’ve done something wrong or when the other person won’t find out. But maybe I weigh those things subconsciously? I wish I would have seized the “teachable moment” and told Reid that adults only kids to keep secrets when they - the adults - have done something they shouldn’t have done. Maybe the next time, I’ll think of that. Probably I’ll forget.

At home once more, Reid was a hungry girl. I gave her a golden plum and she loved it! A few minutes later I noticed Reid was still eating plums and told she needed to switch to vegetables. Reid needed two more plums, or so she said. I asked her how many she’d already eaten and she said she didn’t know. I replied that I was   pretty sure she’d had more than three. Reid’s quick comeback was: “But less than ten.” Apparently ten is the minimum number of plums defined by the term “too many”, as in “Reid, you’ve had too many plums. Have some vegetables instead.” Again, I missed a teachable moment. I should have reminded Reid that when you can count something, the term to use is “fewer”. Ah, well.

Just before falling asleep at bedtime, Reid told me that she was sad because she missed her skates. Missed them? She barely knew them!