I heart my tent…
The weekend camping trip went as well as can be expected, in that there were no trips to the emergency room and I came back with the same number of children that I left with. This was a girls’ weekend, with the exception of Saturday, wherein we were joined by one little brother because Fiddledaddy had to work all day.
Thankfully the two older sisters were heavily involved in badge requirements, so they were blissfully ignorant of their younger brother assaulting all of nature. And assault he did. He was left to his own devices for the most part, because I could HEAR him roaring throughout the campsite. A few of his buddies were also there to share in the experience, and I’m awaiting an email from their mothers thanking me for my son’s prehistoric influence over them.
The boys declared that they had conquered a portion of the park henceforth known as Fort Lizard. It was an area of Palmetto trees, that created an other worldly feel when entering through a well worn path. I’d heard of this oasis among the trees over the last year or so of camping at this park, but I entered because I was in need of settling a dispute. Which I’ll get to in a moment. I was hugely impressed with the beauty of this area, totally hidden by trees. This picture does not do it justice, as there were many facets to this place.
As for the dispute, I was beckoned away from a conversation with other harried moms by my dear friend who has a precious daughter who is an angel sent by God Himself. I’m not kidding. This child is one of the most tenderhearted, kind, and loving little girls I’ve ever known. And then my friend was also blessed with 8 year old twin boys who are very much like having a Jensen. Times two. So the playing field was leveled for her. This is one of the many reasons that she is a dear friend.
Anyhoo. She could hardly stifle her glee as she needed to inform me of something that had just happened in Fort Lizard. Her daughter had tearfully come to her telling her that Jensen had just said something that hurt her heart and was a little inappropriate. I braced myself. It seems that when all the little girls had finished their badge work, they ascended on Fort Lizard. Only to them, it was Camp Princess. A war of wills ensued between the testosterone and the estrogen, culminating in my son declaring to his cohorts in crime, “DON’T WORRY BOYS, WE’RE GONNA KICK THEIR PRETTY LITTLE BUTTS OUT OF HERE!”
I suppose it could have been worse. Much much worse.
Of course a stern lecture followed which included instructions about inappropriate language and co-existing with the fairer sex. And sharing.
I came away from the weekend thankful for many things: A) Dear friends who sail in the same sinking boat as I, B) God’s grace, C) The knowledge that each day we begin anew, and D) Extra strength Excedrin.