Up at the crack of dawn. My latte was waiting for me on the table, because Chip’s definition of ‘crack of dawn’ differs from mine by approx. one hour.
After a pancake breakfast, we went our separate ways. Chip and Brian went to the last day of their reunion, presumably to apologize for bringing barbarians the previous evening. We went grocery shopping. I forgot for just a minute that we are in a small town, and so I went to the local market. Think of every scary image that the words ‘local’ and ‘small town’ evokes. Ok, so – after that, we went to Walmart (second time in two days- I feel so dirty) and bought groceries. They have balsamic vinegar at Walmart. I mean, how can you camp without balsamic vinegar? Exactly – not at all.
Three hours after se set out, we returned home well-armed. And with food, too. Ok, kidding. We had food, though. After putting it all away (6 people, one week – get the picture?). As soon as we ate lunch, the boys wanted to know what we were going to do. When I suggested a nap, I am guessing that you heard the screams.
We found a park up a road from our house. I insisted that we walk, despite how tired the children had suddenly become. They somehow managed to drag themselves the three blocks, and once we hit the park exploded with way too much energy. I walked a long nature trail and went back to the park, to discover all of them hanging upside down from a geodesic climber. I gave birth to bats, apparently. They then had to show me how to run up a slide and jump off the back. After I regained consciousness, we left the park, and walked to an ice cream store. This was further away than the cottage, but for some reason the boys weren’t too tired to go there.
Chip and Brian returned. Everyone went for a swim. #4 was savagely attacked by a crawdad. Or a clam- he didn’t know which. I stopped the bleeding but couldn’t stop the laughing (did I mention that I am a terrible mom?) and we made dinner. If Chip ever comes to your house, do not let him sit down until he makes barbecued chicken.
After dinner, after I cleaned up and washed the dishes, the boys (5 of them) asked what there was to do. I mentioned reading. They nearly broke their faces with their looks of horror and abject despair. We ran to the car. Except for those of us who dragged her feet and muttered grumpily under her breath.
Miniature golf is a sport best played by those who do not fear death. Personally, I can no longer be counted among their numbers. #2 demonstrated that he learned to twirl a baton. Except that he forgot to factor in the weight distribution of a golf club with a head heavier than the handle. After #4 stopped crying, we went on. I am told that my toe will heal in a few days. See, if you whack the ball as hard as humanly possible and it ricochets off a giant squirrel, someone will die. We forged onward.
Guess what Michigan’s chief crop is? Those of you who guessed mosquitoes are absolutely correct. Guess how fast Chip can run when attacked by mosquitoes while wearing shorts? Those of you who guessed ‘faster than the eye can track’ are right once again. Guess what happens when someone’s mother stops an IBGB (Intercontinental Ballistic Golf Ball) with her…um, nether regions? Those of you who guessed “jumps up only once while screaming’ are bang on the money. Guess what happens when that mom realizes what a terrible mistake it is to try vacationing without tequila? Those who said ’she sobs inconsolably’ get it.
Day Two ended with a pizza, an easy bedtime for the little two, and some really good conversation. It was a roaring –literally – success.
When Poe ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
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