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Campfire-ing With Cousins

Campfire with the cousins

My sister, her husband, and their three children came late last night for a stay at our house for the next few nights during some family events we're having.

Excited cousins all were yakking late into the night--on a school night. Oh, well. They lived through the day, tired and all.

This morning was too early as my children had to scuttle off to school. Lots of wishing they could stay home and play.

When the end of the school day fi-na-lly came, they all immediately scattered to the great outdoors, our 65/100 of an acre, the girls tumbling on the trampoline, and the boys showing off their range prowess with BB guns aimed at the BB backstop on our shed. If you're a 12-year-old boy, BBs make a pleasing thud connecting at high velocity with a milk jug as the target.

The girls later decided to sleep over tonight on the trampoline. What fun that would be! What fuddy duddy moms we were to nix that idea when it's supposed to be down to freezing temperatures tonight.

A daytime trampoline sleepover--for 1/2 an hour

A nice compromise was hauling half of Kara's room to the trampoline to make up nests and enjoy some day-time sleepover-ing on the trampoline. Makes me wish I could be a kid again for a little bit; they were having so much fun.

Another bit of fun they had was to stuff Squishmallows into their shirts to be pregnant, just like Aunt C. I remember playing just the same way when I was their age. I had no idea what birthing looked like then, so a quick little pop was all it took to have the pretend baby. Being a kid sure was fun.

My nephew had the idea of roasting hot dogs on a campfire tonight. It took 3 of us all of our talents and 45 minutes to get a fire going. We had paper, cardboard egg cartons, dry leaves and sticks, matches, flint and magnesium... Kris even was telling us to give it up, but giving up apparently isn't in my nephew's vocabulary. He kept at it relentlessly.

Why do fires start when they're not supposed to, then they don't start when they are supposed to?

Anyway, it was a grand campfire when it finally stayed lit. Perfect for roasting the hot dogs and staring into the flames and embers. I did happen to stick my hand in a ketchup splotch that I couldn't see in the dark. Just part of the fun.

My sister and I roasted ourselves at the edge of the fire as if we were on a vertical spit: warm front, cold behind, warm behind, cold front, and so on.

Nobody fought sleep tonight. The girls saw the sense in sleeping indoors on fluffy pillows in a heated house; the boys read about deep wilderness survival before going to sleep on fluffy pillows in a heated house.

Now it's my turn to crawl onto my own fluffy pillows. I'm making cheater donuts tomorrow morning after a well-deserved night of sleep.


Random thought: have you ever wondered what sidewalk chalk tastes like? To get an idea, just eat a few children's chewable ibuprofen. Grape-flavored sidewalk chalk.

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