Camping

We planned. We checked the weather. We waited. We put our camping out day on the first nice, clear day of the end of Summer. . . . . Where, may I ask, did that storm come from? I didn't know a rain storm the size of the Eastern half of the US could quite sneak up on me like that. So, this is what we did instead. In some ways, this was better. It meant *I* slept in my own bed, and not on the hard ground. That does make for a happier mommy.





Yes, actually, we do habitually allow Caleb to play with matches. Just capturing life, folks. As it happens. Little kids get matches, bigger kids get flaming propane tanks. It's a tiered system.



Rob takes marshmallow perfection very seriously. VERY. SERIOUSLY. There is a certain obsessive quality one must possess to balance ideal exterior color and interior gooeyness. The Master Shifu of the marshmallow. (Can you see that Gracen's is on fire? Amateur.)







Jon is a little possessive about the smores. Back off, furball, it's just a picture.