The Pear Tree

Recently my son, Oliver, attended a weeklong art camp at our area art gallery. At the age of four, it was a first for him to be left for two hours a day in the care of someone he didn’t know.

But it was also a first for his two-year-old sister, Amélie, to have an entire morning – or rather, a whole week of mornings – with just her and her mum. While we have spent snippets of time together, without the company of her brother or dad or other friend or family member, having these regular blocks of time for exclusive “us” time was a new luxury.

I decided to take the opportunity for some serious bonding, to do some things together that we wouldn’t normally do with her brother in tow.

The first morning was a write-off, since I had to spend the time catching up on some work I had fallen behind on.

The second morning, we tried a little boutique shopping. We stopped by some of my favourite specialty gift and home décor stores – the ones that I stopped going to because it felt too much like I was unleashing Thing 1 and Thing 2 on a series of small and rather expensive spaces. Dr. Seuss himself would have a hard time imagining the places they’ll go, things they can bump and the things they can hit (and no, I don’t like it! Not one little bit!). Sadly, that didn’t go over very well because Thing 2 on her own is just about as much work as Thing 1 and Thing 2 together.

The next day we went out for a big explore, walking and walking to no where in particular and back. It was nice, but it was hot and we were both pretty tired in the end – she of walking, and me of carrying her.

Our penultimate morning was our most successful. It was the morning the two of us went out for our first “coffee date.” Okay, I had a Chai latte and she had lemonade, but going out for coffee is less about what’s in your cup than about the attractive location and social engagement.

Of course, this wasn’t the girl’s first time in a coffee shop. One of her first outings after she was born was to Starbucks. In fact, she’s a regular at the three Starbucks coffee shops that are located within a five-minute drive from our house.

But this time it was different. This time, it was just us. Mother and daughter. Chai and lemonade.

It was a perfect day for a mother-daughter coffee date. Under a vibrant, blue sky we walked, hand in hand, up the street from our car, across an intersection and into an overflowing shop. The queue was out the door, and the visit started out as an exercise in patience, but we got through it without too much drama.

Once our drinks were ordered and a table found, we discovered lots to talk about, from the odd assortment of people around us to the artwork on the walls. I paged through the newspaper, stopping to chat about the pictures of big trucks or children or animals that caught her eye.

It was definitely different from going out for coffee with one’s peers. For one thing, great delight was had blowing bubbles in the lemonade. And after a few bites of our shared banana loaf, Amélie thought it would be more fun to crumble handfuls of it up and drop it on the ground. My half, too.

A highlight, for her, was making multiple trips to the garbage can to throw away our rubbish, one piece at a time. Then, when a man with a beard sat at a table close to ours, she suddenly felt shy and let me know it was time to go.

And it was – her brother would be waiting for us, full of stories about his own adventure, and she would once again be the little sister, sharing the limelight.

As bonding moments go, it was nothing deep – but then, most of the fondest memories in our lives aren’t, at least not for several months or weeks after the fact. But it was a little harbinger of moments to come. Moments that will be just ours. I can’t wait to do more with this fabulous, quirky, little person.

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