After an uneventful trip north, during which my big green diesel van achieved new greatness with 19 mpg and then was insulted with a rock bouncing off the windshield not once but four times in rock chip hall of fame glory, we are in South Dakota at my parents’ house. We got here Friday, bought shirts on Saturday for dear Mr P who missed that memo on my handy dandy packing list that he didn’t follow… better than last year’s forgetting of underpants. Maybe. Today we sent off the oldest four to church camp for what I pray is a fabulous week for them. I was reminded today how many people meet their future spouse at Bible camp. Little dose of sober right there.
My van’s windshield is repaired and well once more. Nearly three hours of waiting, much of it spent in a glass shop with four small children, made for a super fun afternoon. I finally grabbed Stellan and told him to go to sleep in my arms. It was safer that way.
The kids are swimming in the little wading pool and riding bikes for miles and miles back and forth down the gravel road. I mowed the lawn and hit zero rocks. I’d forgotten how glorious it is to mow where rocks don’t procreate.
My parents have a confusion (yes, I googled) of guinea fowl whom cackle and cluck and wander the yard eating insects. They call the birds their neighbors. Best neighbors ever, I tell you. They sleep at night, never borrow anything, and they eat all the bugs.
Here begins the countdown. The kids will be gone five days to camp. I told them to come home with lots of new friends and addresses and phone numbers. I’m just hoping I don’t regret such a broad statement. Thinking specifying gender might have been helpful.
For the record, the rock chip did occur in South Dakota. The insurance agent suggested I meet the glass repairman at the mall. He couldn’t figure out what I meant when I suggested that there is not nearly enough to do to pass an hour or two at the mall here. It’s all but vacant. Welcome to South Dakota. Where mosquitoes outnumber people thousands to one, people complain it’s hot at 85°, and I get strange looks for locking my vehicle. Small town life is so much fun.
Oh no!! I hate to hear about your windshield. Bummer!! Thank goodness no one was hurt.
Oh yes, you might regret those words about getting addresses. Hahaha!
Maybe that boy just wanted new shirts. Ha!
Enjoy your visit with your parents. I know your kiddos will have a blast.