We did a ton of driving this weekend. The Tall Kid had one of his events at the base of Mt. Washington, but not the side of the mountain we pass on our way to camp. Of course not. He had to be on the other side of the mountain. Since TK’s got a hefty class schedule this year (and wouldn’t play hooky if we paid him) (which we know because we’ve tried) we couldn’t head out until after school on Friday, which meant the husband, SK and I pulled into camp tired and cranky. Then we did it in reverse on Sunday. But Saturday was a beautiful day.

The Short Kid did what he liked:

The Tall Kid did what he liked:

And my husband and I drank a lot of coffee.

(Please ignore the small motor vehicle over the Tall Kid’s shoulder. It’s clearly a mass hallucination, as those didn’t exist in the 18th century. Stop eating those funny looking mushrooms, people.)

The Tall Kid learned an interesting fact about 18th century living Saturday night: when you can see your breath in your tent when you’re getting ready for bed, there’s no thermostat.