The Jersey City Independent "

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This last weekend we made a huge tactical error. I was going up to cover the Montreal Jazz Festival and decided to drive so the entire family could come along. We love the city, the downtown is very walkable, and the festival grounds has tons of free music on outdoor stages. The idea was that we would cruise around town with child in tow taking it all in. The problem was that we forgot our stroller. This is second time we’ve left town without a stroller, but this time it was a bigger deal than a visit to the grandparents who drove everywhere.

With Dash topping the scales at 30-plus pounds, it’s a lot of groceries to carry around. Of course it didn’t help that both of us have cranky backs and I’ve got a bum shoulder at the moment. I know this probably makes us sound like a classic example of why old farts shouldn’t have young kids, but really I’ve found that logic and family decisions don’t always coincide, so keep those thoughts to yourself.

Anyway, we toyed with the idea of buying a cheap stroller or other method of child transport, but there weren’t any stores nearby that sold such things. In the end we just traded off carrying him around. When there was room and he was in the mood, we let him walk, sometimes holding hands and sometimes swinging him along with a parent on either side.

We actually busted out the shoulder ride, which hadn’t gone so well at the Liberty State Park air show on Fathers Day, but he went for it this time. That worked the best, particularly when bands played. We did wander a bit, but probably didn’t go as far as we would have otherwise. Nor did we move from stage to stage the way we would have otherwise done. But somehow we survived.

Dash actually behaved pretty well, all things considered. I’ve said it before that the kid has already traveled more than I did in my first 20 years and this weekend jaunt wasn’t much of a stretch for him. Of all the meals we ate out, there wasn’t one time that he went nuclear and we had to run out of a restaurant with a screaming 2-year-old.

That said, he had an awesome meltdown in the grocery store where he laid on the floor in the checkout line screaming. I missed it because I was at a gig, but apparently the display was impressive enough that a man from the Congo who only spoke French and a little Israeli (?!) tried to helpfully snap him out of it by yelling “hey!” over and over again. Wish I’d been there to see that.

There was another time on the street as we walked towards the river. We fruitlessly tried to convince him that walking was a great idea, but when we set him down he just slid right down to the pavement and screamed bloody murder. This time a French Canadian family tried to cheer him up using French and waving at him, but the only thing that worked was Kathy picking him up and carrying him. At this point he just stared at me, silently cursing me out with a look of disgust that he’ll no doubt refine over the years to come.

One chiropractic visit (me) and one massage (Kathy) later, we’re no worse for wear. I’m truly looking forward to the day he’s too big to be carried, but until then I doubt we’ll ever forget the stroller again (knock on wood).