Beauma Goes to Quebec City: Part Un

"You've become a hotel snob," my daughter remarked in an accusing tone. We were ordering lunch in the terrace restaurant of the Hotel Frontenac in Quebec City, a mighty four-star fortress rising above the St. Lawrence River.

Perhaps I had made a disparaging remark about the lack of spa facilities, closed for renovation.


"Since you've been to the Breakers nothing is good enough," she continued, referring to my earlier stint as nanny to my grandson, Tripp, at the luxurious resort in Palm Beach nearly six months earlier. While Katherine organized events and off-site activities for 60 of her company's top employees, we kicked back in our suite, sporting our HOWL onesie and ordering room service.


"That's not true!" I protested. I watched my grandson in his borrowed highchair playing with brown paper cylinders of salt, and perused the menu. This time we were on a wining and dining scouting trip for the company's fall outing.


When the waiter bustled over to take our orders, I told him, "I'll have la salade Cesar avec les shrimps, s'il vous plait."


"Avec les crevettes?" The waiter repeated with that soupcon of disdain peculiar to the French.


Katherine ordered a junior club sandwich and fruit.


"Avec les shrimps?" she teased me after the waiter had departed.


"It says shrimps," I countered.


Katherine snorted and began to tear pieces of warm baguette into morsels the size of Tripp's pinky nail for her son.

My role as sherpa/nanny had begun stateside at 4AM that morning. I had been permitted a quick shower, and was then instructed to collect the luggage and proceed to the car. For a three-night stay, we had between us one baby, three suitcases, a stroller, a car seat encased in its own unwieldy cover, and 2 carry-ons each. Two flights, many hours, and countless verses of Eeensy Weensie Spider later, I was plucking organic O's from my hair and splattered with purple organic squeeze food. While Katherine strode majestically into the hotel lobby with the baby, I was responsible for piles of luggage, passports and tips.


We had adjoining rooms on the 12th floor facing the river. 


"Your room is sort of dark," my daughter noted, sailing through the connecting door into her own luxurious quarters with its five windows and fireplace.


We spent the remainder of the day unpacking and playing with the baby. Tripp and I sat on the floor while I read aloud from Dan's Dump Truck, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See? Tripp dexterously flipped the pages of his books with the finger of one hand, while using his other hand to windshield wipe the rug. Holding two of my fingers, he walked the perimeter of our rooms, then crawled off to lick his mother's bathroom floor. 


Both he and his mother became a bit distraught at bedtime, so I suggested a warm bath.


"That was a really good idea, Mom," my daughter told me. 


"Well, I have done this before," I said. "Twice."


We tucked into a hearty petit dejeuner early the next day: croissants and oeufs benedict and cafes au lait and le petit bucheron ("the little lumberjack") for le bebe, as well as a large platter of fruit.

While Katherine made her coiffeur and otherwise readied herself for her day: a private tour of the Parliament Building, a visit to an organic farm to tickle her taste buds with foie gras and confit, a guided walk to Montmorency Falls, lunch at a trendy bistro, and her ascent in the Funicular, Tripp and I twirled like tornadoes to All Around the Mulberry Bush, jouncing with each pop!


"So, do you know what you're doing?" my daughter asked.


"I think I've got it," I said, jouncing. "Nap, play, lunch. Nap, play - or was it lunch, play, nap...?"


"I'll have my phone and I can always come right back," Katherine told me, and then she was gone with a flip of her hair.


"We'll be fine," I called after her.


The door had barely clicked shut when I had Tripp buckled into his stroller, snuggled in with his blankie and Mortimer the Moose. We walked the streets and observed the sights, practicing our Francais.

le cheval

le canon

 

Winnie

And then we napped.