Camping - Coffee

“What time will coffee be ready in the morning?” One of the mothers asked. We were at the leaders' meeting for the cub scout camp. This being my first time at camp, I was interested in how things were going to work. They'd gathered all the adults (At least the adults that still had the energy to walk to the dinning hall) and had the kids at the opening camp fire. (Any time you combine five-year to ten-year olds and fire, I find it's a good idea to be far away.) There had been several, I thought, key points brought up But it wasn't until this question was asked that the parents actually perked up.

“The cooks will be here at six in the morning,” the camp coordinated answered.

“We'll start the coffee as soon as we get in,” the head cook added.

“So, if I take my shower at six, the coffee will be ready after? By 6:30?”

I think the look in that mother's eye and the tone of her voice finally got through. The cook gulped and promised that the coffee would be ready. The tension hung in the air as the adults waited. Finally, there was a slight nod from our caffeine leader and the deal was sealed.

Now, that I knew caffeine was guaranteed and the rest of the schedule for the week, I was all set. The kids would be in their cabins and asleep by 9 pm, cause that's when lights out was. I checked the time. We had 10 minutes to finish the opening campfire, then 10 minutes to hike up the trail to the camp site. (I'd made the hike up to the campsite after the swimming test. Once the spots cleared from my vision and the ringing in my ears passed, I could appreciate the view. I'm pretty sure there were eagles circling below us...) Once at the campsite, there was a full half hour for smores, teeth brushing and pjs. (They'd actually allowed mothers to come on the camping trip and they brought useless things like tooth brushes and changes of clothes.)

My tent (yes, the kids were in cabins and the adults were in tents.) was set up and my son already had his cot set up and stuff stowed in his cabin. He was happy because he had two pads on his cot and said it was the best bed ever.

Even though it was almost nine by the time I crawled into camp, I was still confident about the schedule. This was the cub scouts and they had Rules. (And a weird definition of the backstroke. I am going to take this to the Olympic committee. All the gold medals for the past Olympics need to be re-evaluated.) Apparently, chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers are not the ideal pre-bedtime snack. For the next two hours, the campsite was filled with running kids wielding flashlights, Frisbees and sticks. (Yes, when we saw them with the sticks, we stopped them, but you try and keep track of kids re-enacted Lord of the Flies. I was going with to the 80/20 rule. As long as we brought back 80% of the kids, we were ahead of the game.)

Finally, the dreaded “Time to brush teeth” was called. (This is the only known weakness for a pack of rabid boys.) We were only two hours past the lights out, but we still had all the kids and the all the parents and my tent was away from most of the cabins. (Strangely, the tents furthest from the cabins were picked first. Even though the tents only slept two, I think the farthest away ones had seven or eight adults crammed in.

By 12:30, the last of our kids were asleep. (I know this because there was another group camping on the other side of the ridge and I could hear their parents yelling at their kids well past 2:30 to stop talking.)

The next morning, for some reason, we had a bit of trouble getting the kids up and going. However, we did make roll call on time. (I think that was because all the adult were anxious for the promised coffee that was brewing and all ready by the time breakfast started at 8 am.)

As they let us in, there was a line of adults at the coffee urn.

Children should not be allowed to brew coffee, especially at camp. Technically, the cook hadn't lied. The coffee was ready. However, you should not be able to see the bottom of a styrofoam cup that is full of coffee. I think the adults took him aside and explained the finer points of morning and caffeine. The next day, the coffee was much darker and the parents were not nearly as whiney.

Only five days left until camp is over...

Tooth Fairy

I live with morons.

My daughter finally lost her first front tooth. This tooth took a while to go from loose to out. For the past three weeks, I'd check and be told that it had not fallen out yet. I suggested a hammer to help it come out, but that was nixed before I could find a hammer. It took a group of excited Brownies and my wife's elbow to finally get it out. Apparently my daughter was a little distracted as they learned about the Ruffed Grouse and my wife's elbow didn't check for right of way.

A few gallons of blood later, my daughter arrived home to tell me all about her first Brownies meeting. It might have been a bit mean of me to keep asking, is it grouse or grouth? After the tenth time, it was still funny...

I did my fatherly duty and made sure the tooth was placed in a plastic sandwich bag so it would not be lost (After going through my son's fifty teeth, this was a common habit. (This is important in a bit...)) The tooth fairy made it's stumbling and grumbling way into her room much later that night and swapped the tooth for cash. The grumbling was because I didn't plan ahead. For well over six years, my daughter has fallen asleep in every position imaginable (and many unimaginable). The one thing in common was her pillow never figured into those positions. So, when I tucked her tooth (in it's plastic bag) under her pillow I figured the swap would be easy. This night, she was plastered over her pillow. The middle of the night is not the time to silently sneak a tooth from under a six year old anticipating a visit from the tooth fairy.

I was a bit surprised the next day when I got a teary-eyed call on my way home. (This is where the moron-ness starts) Her other tooth came out at school! (actually it was shhool) and she lost her toof. After some intense patience on my part, I gleaned the whole story. The nurse had put her tooth in a special necklace for her to bring home. My daughter, being MY daughter, had to check out her toof... several times. Unfortunately, one of these times was on the shhool bus as she was getting off. Someone bumped her and her toof was lost! Gone forever.

I assured my distraught daughter that I would look for it when I got home and was pretty sure I'd be able to find it.

“How can you find it? It's gone!”

“I have special daddy skills.” (Those skills stemmed from my son when he lost his second tooth and couldn't find it. I found this out at bed time. My suggestion that I could pull another tooth wasn't too well received. So began project “Distraction.” My wife read his stories while I searched. Believe it or not, very few household items look enough like a bottom tooth to fool a tired child. I had a brainstorm when I came across the first tooth he'd lost. This met all the requirements... It was tooth shaped and it was handy.

“Where did you find it?” He instantly perked up.

I rolled my eyes to cover a small bit of information I'd forgotten to gather. In the initial panic, I neglected to ask where he was when he lost it. “Where do you think I found it? Right where you lost it.”

The nice thing about children is they are so trusting. “You mean you found it in the family room? I looked all over. How did you find it?”

“I was just lucky.”

Ever since, that tooth has been in the top drawer of my dresser. It's gotten us through at least 4 teeth that were lost and never made it home.)

Shortly after I got home, the search began for my daughter's newly lost tooth. Against all odds, the tooth was found. (The impressive part was that I still remembered where I'd stored the fallback tooth.)

“Is this the tooth you lost?”

“Where did you find it?” She carefully took the tooth from my hand.

“It must have fallen into a pocket on your backpack.”

Then, I started to worry. This WAS my daughter and she was looking at the tooth far too intensely. There was doubt. And the only other tooth I had on hand was a front tooth.

“That's my toof?”

“Yes. Don't they look weird when they fall out?” Ok, there might have been a bit of hysteria in my voice. I snatched the tooth from her hand. “I'll put this on my dresser. We'll put it under your pillow tonight.”

That night, my daughter made sure she had the tooth when my wife put her to bed. I made a quick check so I knew where the tooth and bag were. But, there was no plastic bag.

“Where's your tooth?”

“Under my pillow!”

"I don't feel it. Are you sure?”

My daughter picked up her pillow and pointed at her tooth. There were just three little problems. The tooth was white. Her sheet was white. The tooth was not in a plastic bag.

Her mother got a very strong talking to about night vision, stumbling and finding a white tooth the size of a grain of sand. She didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation. I think the exact words were, “Ok. I'm going back to sleep.”

The tooth fairy definitely needs better support staff.

Sleeping

“Hurry up, Daddy, she's sleeping weird again,” my son yelled in an almost whisper as he came running onto the porch.

See, last year, we went on vacation to Saint Croix. Both kids had realized they were born with an set of gills. They spent the first day of their vacation in the water, or marginally below the surf, depending on the size of the wave. That first night, both kids didn't just fall alseep, they crashed big time. My daughter managed a joint-dislocating sprawl that had to be immortalized digitally. The next morning, I got a one (of many) lectures from her on how I was not supposed to take pictures when she was sleeping. (Of course that only made me take more).

This time, after getting up at 3 am, flying around the world four and a half times, keeping track of her brother and her mother and a quick dip in the ocean, my daughter was more than ready to go to bed early. As I do every night, I checked on her after a couple of hours and was not surprised that she was sleeping across the bed (Up and down don't really have a serious meaning for her) her arms flailed out. Obviously, with full understanding of the coming lecture, I had to take her picture.

The next morning, she was thrilled with her picture. I was ordered to take a picture every night so she could see how funny she was. (Yes, she's a bit of an actress/drama queen. She gets that from her mother)

Well... After three days of snorkeling, fighting waves, playing the sand and turning into native islanders, both kids went beyond exhausted and fell asleep and did not move last night. When my daughter asked to see her picture, I explained they were both too boring and needed to step up their game tonight.

That's why my son was so happy that his sister was sleeping weird.

We started the day fairly quietly. A trip to Cane Bay, snorkeling, playing in the water and the sand. A lunch thrown in for when everyone got hungry. It sounded like a perfect plan. We got to the bay and immediately, both kids perked up. WAVES. Last year, Cane Bay had the “sweetest waves, baby” according to my son. This was right after a hurricane passed by and the waves were tall (and solid. Apparently, when a wave starts that far away, it picks up sand and these were very reluctant to let that sand go until they hit me.)

Both kids raced to the water and began the age old battle of kid against element. While they were engaged in their warfare against the evil waves, my wife decided to snorkel out and see how the visibility was. About the time she got beyond the initial breakers, both kids decided they were ready to snorkel too. Somehow, I got to take my daughter. I loaded her up with her snorkel vest (and blew it up, in case you are wondering.) put her fins on her and tightened them up and got her mask and snorkel arranged. Then, holding on to her, so the current wouldn't drag her to another island, I managed to get my fins (in case you have never tried, getting fins on, holding a five-year who thinks she can swim as fast as a fish, but hasn't quit grasped that keeping the snorkel in your mouth helps the whole breathing underwater thing, keeping your balance as waves pummel you and the current drags you down the beach is a challenging endeavor. Adding in your wife laughing definitely does not improve the situation.) and my mask on.

One final check to make sure she was ready and my daughter and I started out for the reefs. This was accomplished by my daughter spinning around in circles to look at the fish, the rocks, the sand-pretty much anything that moved, while I pulled her along through the waves and current. After what felt like three hours of towing an anchor (I'm going to rent my daughter out to the American Olympic swimming team, or whichever country offers the most money, to improve their conditioning.) we made it past all the waves and over the reefs. My daughter was still spinning, but now she was adding in her own commentary (in all likelihood, the commentary never stopped, I just couldn't hear it while I was having the embolism and towing her to the calm water.)

So, to recap:

Getting Daughter ready to snorkel-10 minutes.
Getting my stuff on while holding daughter-2 minutes and several pulled muscles
Getting daughter past waves and current to see reef-10 minutes and embolism (but great cardio)
Daughter getting cold and wanting to go back to the beach-1 minute.

We finished the day with hermit crab races. Apparently it is a huge weekly event for the kids (and the adults that have spent the day drinking). Each “kid” picked a crab, named it and got their parent or non-drunk friend to hand over two dollars. The crabs were all put into a five-gallon bucket and after all the bars sponsoring the event were named, the bucket was turned over and the crabs ran for safety. Unfortunately for the crabs, they were surrounded by kids who'd spent the entire day in the water and adults who'd spent the past two hours, in a bar, waiting for the crab races to start. The only safe place was the center of the circle. My daughter's crab knew this and didn't move. The rest of the crabs were not as smart and headed for danger.

“I'll never win a crab race.” my daughter lamented from my shoulders as I carried her to our rental car after all the prizes had been given out.

“I saw your crab (let's be honest, out of a couple hundred hermit crabs, all piled in a heap, there is no way I was going to be able to see one crab, but this is an allowable parental lie. “No, I didn't eat the last of the Doritos, your brother did.” is not, according to my wife.) and he tried his best.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to win a crab race,” I could feel her shoulders slump under the burden of defeat. I had no idea that her only goal in life had been to become a champion hermit crab racer, and how she had been dealt a serious blow to that dream.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, but I didn't win.”

“Want to try again next week.”

I felt her perk up a bit. “Yes! I will win next week, I just have to keep trying.”

Another recap:

Day of snorkeling-Daddy mild embolism
Hermit crab races-Daddy second mild embolism carrying daughter to car.

After years of parenthood, I was sure both kids would step up their game sleeping tonight. The only problem was I had to make sure all the cameras were hidden before I went to sleep...