Probably the most exciting was deciding to have a hot-dog roast last Thursday night.
Now, keep a few essential facts in mind:
1) It's January.
2) It's dark long before supper time.
3) The twins are eighteen months old.
4) The relevant bonfire was selected for proximity to brush-generating locations, not proximity or ease of access from house.
Nonetheless, when DOB discovered His Majesty taking advantage of a lull in the rain to burn a couple piles of brush, he proposed the adventure. After all, I was making beans for supper already--just add hot dogs to that, transport it all up the side of a hill laced with flower stakes, slippery steps, and tomato cages, serve it in the dark out of a wheelbarrow, and there you are. Well, why not?
After a few trips to carry the non-fragile items, like mustard and plastic bowls, I felt I had the route down enough to transport the more perilous items, like toddlers and boiling pots of beans. Not simultaneously. The only error we made were forgetting a flashlight and napkins, and leaving the outside house lights on, thus resulting in several minutes of readjusting to the darkness every time we actually stepped into the area that was hard for walking.
It took a while to convince the babies that we were actually eating in this strange setting, but after a few episodes of poking hot dog fragments in their mouth they finally figured out what was going on and responded accordingly. D2, as he always does, felt the call of nature five minutes into the meal, but fortunately nature was close at hand, though the encounter with brambles was perhaps a bit too close to nature.
The fire had been burning for awhile and close to it the air was positively cozy--though it wasn't really that cold anywhere.
My admiration for Ma Ingalls grew by another leap, although as I washed up afterwards and noted the advantage of not needing to wipe up a table or floor, I saw that the rustic life was not all negatives. But then, we had it easy. It didn't start to pour rain until five minutes after we had hauled everything back inside.
D3 still has mustard on her jacket. Her Majesty prudently was spending the evening in jail (leading Bible studies, for the record), so she missed the excitement.
Come to think of it, that's enough excitement for one blog post.