Today

 I spend a lot of time in the evenings Googling what we should do the next day. Last night was no exception. We were pretty sure Joseph didn't want to go to the stake YM activity, and I wasn't sure about the Relief Society activity, but we still wanted to do things in Montreal instead of venturing too far away. We figured that whatever we did, the kids would appreciate a good playground.

As it turned out, Joseph was interested in the YM activity, so we hurried over to a nearby playground at Jeanne Mance Park. We decided to drive, but it ended up taking longer finding parking a few blocks away and walking over than it would have been to walk. (The good news is that the kids say they are willing to walk to this park because they like it so much.)

This water system was a big hit!

Joseph and Lydia went across the street with me to see the Georgie Etienne Cartier memorial.

I gave Julia an apple slice, and after one bite she dropped it in the sand. It was beyond saving, but I was willing to give her another slice after her hand wasn't covered in sand. She cried that I had taken her apple and cried that I was brushing off her hand.

Then a little boy came over. "Porquoi pleurer?" he asked. Why is she crying? 105 days of Duolingo still hadn't taught me how to say, "She doesn't like that I'm brushing off her hand," so I said one of the 744 words I do know. "Pomme." Porquoi? Pomme.

Behind me, a woman was stuck in one of those diabolical spinning toys that never run out of momentum. I saw her asking her son for help, but he wasn't doing anything. I started walking over, but two other dads got there before me. I'm glad to live in a world where there is no shame in getting rescued from spinny toys on the playground.

The boy came back with his own pomme. I pulled out Google Translate and asked "Quel age as-tu? Trois? Quatre?" He responded with some number that I didn't understand. He asked something about "appelle" so I said "Julia," and he seemed satisfied with that answer. "Julia. Julia." Then he said something else which I assumed was his name, but I didn't understand it either. It is very humbling to have a toddler speak a language a whole lot better than you.

By then, Kevin was back with the car, so we got loaded up and headed to Angrignon Park for the YM activity. I guess when you're stuck with younger siblings 24/7, the idea of hanging out with nice teenagers can sound pretty appealing. There was plenty of traffic, and it was exciting when Kevin got on the freeway because it meant no more bikes! No more pedestrians! And no more stoplights! I could see City Hall, which I had seen on Thursday when we went to the science center, and Joseph pointed out the overpass we had walked on when we got off the metro. It feels like putting puzzle pieces together, approaching landmarks from different angles.

After we dropped Joseph off, I survived the walk back from the grassy area to the car without getting bitten by any geese,

and then we went to Snowdon Deli to try the famous smoked meat.

It was pretty crowded in there, and it was even more crowded with our double stroller. It looked like we would have to wait a while to sit down to eat, but thankfully there was a short line at the takeout counter. While we ordered, Julia started to fuss. Then, one of the owners appeared with cookies for all of the kids. I'm sure we looked like quite the sight with 5 kids, and the 6th wasn't even there! After we ordered, I took some kids to the bathrooms which were right by where everyone was cooking. Jacob loved watching them work.

We got our food fairly quickly and decided that the easiest place to eat would be across the street at the church. (So, you know, still 5 minutes away.) Thankfully the bees that had gotten in our car at Snowdon deli didn't have relatives hanging out in the church parking lot because I still have a red spot on my thigh from where I got stung 4 weeks ago. After I nursed Julia, I joined everyone else in the grass to eat. The food was good but I wish I had gotten to eat it 15 minutes earlier. Even so, I ate a lot! The church was unlocked, so while we waited for Joseph's activity to end, we went up to the nursery to let the kids play. Then we picked up Joseph and drove home.

After that, Jacob and I walked over to a convenience store to get some more batteries for his cutebot. Then I went to a Relief Society activity where we talked about inspiring ancestors. I was the only person from the US there, and it was great (and humbling!) to hear stories about parents and grandparents working hard and living lives of love. Something that is kind of interesting (and it might just be my personality) is how the character traits that impress me the most are often related to simple personal improvement. Like, I really admire people who are excited to learn and improve no matter their age, who learn to not see themselves as the victim, who can view people who think differently without contempt or condescension, and who practice warm-heartedness and forgiveness. But it seems like the focus for most of these stories was strength and loyalty. Stories of a father who had to take care of all his siblings and some nieces and nephews starting when he was 16 and gave up job opportunities to stay close to them. Stories of mothers and grandmothers whose husbands cheated on them and loved their kids fiercely. Stories of really looking out for family members. People who dealt with strokes and paralysis and other health problems. (Meanwhile my biggest trial this week is that I really miss my vacuum back home.)

Anyway, when I talked about an ancestor that I admired, I didn't talk about hard things this ancestor went through and the strength they showed. I talked about the personality traits I liked. And I think there's room for both niceness and strength. But it was humbling realizing that most women in the international church have had to become strong in ways I can't imagine, and their niceness comes from strength rather than occasional moments of self-reflection in an easy life. 

Then I drove home. Maybe I'm becoming refined into a more patient person by driving in Montreal.