Yesterday we got a great idea. A stranger gave us a tent (larger than our old three man tent), and since Lee had to set it up to dry and get sand out of and off of the tent, we decided that we’d all sleep in the tent. We’re going camping for real in a few weeks, so this would be good dry run. What could go wrong?
We roasted marshmallows and settled down to sleep. It was a clear night, and the stars were brilliant. The dog took awhile to settle. Lee had his alarm set to 5:40. The children made several trips to the house to go to the bathroom, and get pillows and stuffed animals. Eventually all the children found a place to sleep, eventually Bethel stopped singing, eventually Laurel stopped asking where the moon was, and eventually David stopped complaining that the girls were making too much noise to go to sleep.
At four thirty, our adventure began. Laurel was stirring and fussing, half asleep, and I made the mistake of pointing out the moon overhead with moonbeams all around in a vain attempt to distract her and lull her back to sleep.
A half hour later, I brought both girls in the house, Lee decided he would go to work later, and we left David and the dog at the tent while trying to get another hour or two of sleep. Sadly, at regular intervals, the girls were scared and David kept calling for Mollie to get back in the tent. It’s a good thing our only close neighbor is gone for a few days, because it was not a quiet morning. Eventually Bethel started singing, David started playing with Mollie (right outside our window), and Laurel got up crying because Bethel was singing and David wouldn’t let her outside (it wasn’t time to get up, he said).
Then David cried because his caterpillar died and Bethel wouldn’t help him find a new one.
It’s been an emotional morning. At the present, all are happy, but we are clearly walking along the precipice of acute emotional disaster.
There is little of spiritual import in this story (although I’m sure I could come up with some morals). I’ll be more spiritual tomorrow, I’m sure.