Some friends invited my daughter and I to go to St. Augustine for the weekend. So I’m leaving later this afternoon to go camping. Yes. Camping. In a tent. If you knew me, you would know to begin hysterical laughing right now… okay, enough already (I am not made of steel! sniff!).
I have my suspicions that they only invited me to go with them for purely comedy relief. You know the camping trip at the end of the Parent Trap movie (the good one, not the Lindsey Lohan one)? Where they take the witchy wannabe stepmom with them on their trip and she’s so clueless about outdoor life that she’ll believe anything they say? Yeah well that’s me minus the witchy wannabe stepmom part. Those FIVE years in Girl Scouts did nothing for me.
The funniest thing? I am going to take my three and half year old terror. When I told her we were going camping. Her big blue eyes widened and she smiled real big and said, “Yay! Camping! … What’s that?” (Yeah, that’s my girl.)
Who knows though? Ya’ll might not be done with me yet (so stop being relieved!). I might post something on Monday… if you’re lucky!
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OK, I'll be here. But AUGHHH! Weekend blogging! I'm having a hard enough time getting anything on my own crappy site!
I can relate to the three year old terror thing. My daughter (through the grace of God) has survived to the ripe old age of 4. I told her that we were going to visit family in NC. All I heard for the two weeks before our trip was "Are we going to Nort Cantolina after dinner (lunch, nap, now) Fortunatly for me, now that we are on the road there hasn't been any "Are we there yet" garbage.