Father's Day, this year, lasted three days. I had a three-day weekend, and we weren't going to be at home on Sunday, so we celebrated Father's Day on Friday. My daughter bought me a hammock, my son bought me an Indiana Jones Lego Set. How cool is that? Score!
The new hammock was longer than my old one, so I needed a new place to tie it. I found an old post behind a flower-bush (my wife, I sure, could tell you what kind of plant it was). There was a metal arm attached to it, so I tied the hammock to it. Turns out the post and arm were put in when the garden was put it, about 20 years ago, to hold a bird feeder. Apparently, I weigh more than a bird feeder. I laid on the hammock, and slammed to the ground.
Right on top of the well-built old birdhouse hiding in the underbrush. The birdhouse didn't break. My back, however... So I had to crawl back to the post and find a better place to hang it. Hey, we're talking hammock-time here. A little pain isn't going to stop me. The post turned out to be strong enough, it was just the 20 year old rusty screw that couldn't hold me, so I tied back to the post. It held fine. Well enough for me to take a nap in the hammock.
Until my wife sent the dog to wake me up.
The next day, we went to cross-over camp. This is for the cub scouts, where the tigers become wolves, the wolves become bears and the bears become weblos. It's the yearly overnight camping (in a cabin) for the cubs. The first step into the cabin brings back childhood memories. Yep, the bunks still smell the same.
The kids had a great day. They built a rope-bridge and went on a nature hike. They played soccer and baseball. They ate chicken and hamburgers and hot dogs, along with pumpkin pudding cooked in a dutch-oven surrounded by briquettes. They received their awards and went through the ceremony of crossing a footbridge and receiving the next level neckerchief. They roasted marshmallows and told ghost stories.
We settled into bed, or at least, a bunk, that night exhausted. Well, the dads were exhausted. The kids could have kept going for hours (or days). Around midnight, the kids finally dropped off and I thought I would sleep. Well, we didn't realize the scoutmaster would be in our cabin. He had stayed up late to take care of the fire. So, at a few minutes after midnight, he opened the door to the cabin.
The door opening startled one kid, who jumped up and slammed his head into the bunk above. My son, startled awake, slide out of bed and hit the floor. The scoutmaster had brought a lantern (battery powered, of course) which lite the cabin like daytime. Climbing up to a top bunk, he hit his head on the low ceiling and knocked part of the smoke detector on the floor.
The kids were wide awake.
By one, everyone was finally asleep. I woke the next morning, my back aching from the birdhouse, from the bunk and from all the work the day before, groggy from no sleep. I woke at 5:30 in the morning, because the sun came up and the kids woke up to the bright light. Then the kids hurried up to the cooking area. The dedicated scoutmaster had woken at 5 to start the morning fire and get the breakfast gear started. Supervised by the scoutmaster and a few parents, the kids cooked blueberry pancakes over a propane griddle so the dads could have a Father's Day breakfast.
My son made me a blueberry pancake the size of my plate, a croissant, grapes, strawberries, sausages and hash. He even told me I was the greatest. (Okay, there's a Ward Cleaver moment). The weekend was filled with bugbites, wet shoes (my kids both ended up in the scum-filled pond at one point), the work of carrying in and out the camping gear, lost of aches and pains. In the end, it was a great weekend. And I slept really well Sunday night.
