Dry Run

As I mentioned a few days ago, we are leaving for Blackrock soon. A week from today, as a matter of fact. We will be driving again, as the cost of six plane tickets is a bit staggering. With memories of our cross-country trip last summer still unfortunately clear in my mind, I suggested to A. that this time we should plan on camping instead of staying in motels.

This seems insane, I know. A. probably thought I had gone insane when I mentioned it, because my dislike of camping is deep-seated and well-known.

However.

We found it to be less than relaxing to stay in motel rooms with our feral children after they had been sitting in a car all day. We would get into our room and spend twenty minutes shouting at boys to stop screeching and jumping on beds before giving up on the idea of relaxing and bringing them outside to run around wherever we were.

I came to the conclusion that I would rather just be at a campsite where they could run around us and scream outdoors.

This is all good in theory*, but we have one big question mark in this equation: Poppy.

She has never been camping. The plan is for her to sleep in the smaller tent with me--leaving poor A. with the crazy boys in the big tent--but I have no idea how well this will work. Not only is she only accustomed to sleeping in her crib, she is not at all used to sleeping with other people. Even me.

Cubby set up their small tent in the enclosed porch the other day, so I've been encouraging Poppy to go into it and explore. She hasn't been too enthused, and certainly doesn't appear inclined to lie down and rest in it, but all I can do is cross my fingers and hope for the best.

Wish us luck.

 * I am not so delusional as to believe that camping with them will be relaxing either, but at least we won't be paying seventy dollars for the privilege of listening to them scream and run around in an enclosed space.