Today is my husband's birthday, so what a perfect time to tell you all about the romantic bicycle ride we took last week at Niagara-on-the-lake. The town boasts a smooth, meandering bike path along the Niagara river, under the shade of mature oaks (and other majestic trees). I couldn't keep the smile off my face, and not just because of the beautiful scenery.
We travelled from our hotel past Fort George (headquarters of the British Army during the war of 1812) where I posed suggestively on a cannon:
Imagine always having to be the responsible one; the person to decide "yes" or "no", whether an activity is safe, what volume is acceptable, and even which jokes are appropriate. I didn't realize that's what my life is until that weight was lifted.
It reminded me of when my husband and I were dating, when we used to hang out, just enjoying each others company. For a moment I remembered what my world was like before my adorable, yet highly dependent offspring. I remembered why I married this man in the first place.
We have fun together. Fun. Remember that? Without the constant threat of over-tired tantrums and demands for snacks. We biked to Brown's Point, and I have no idea if that's an accomplisment or not. It didn't feel like a strenuous journey. It was perfectly easy-going.
On the way back we stopped at a store advertising fresh cherries and shared a pint. Nobody whined about their hunger until we were forced to stop, we just got a treat for ourselves and enjoyed it together. Best. Day. Ever.