It's Not Easy Being Green

The pond excursion is what you'd expect: a few dead things, lots of pond scum, a few near fall-ins, and way too many bugs. I nearly stepped on a frog. I am happy to report that it was more afraid of me than I of it, and it hopped frantically away long before I stopped doing my little get-it-off-me dance.

My daughter unearthed a neat-o fossil. Also found a frog. Named it Fabio. I'll call it a successful outing at the pond.

What was not so successful was her trip to the latrine. Evidently camp french toast and fruit cup put quite a whammy on her bowels and while the other girls were still searching for an equally adorable frog or an equally cool fossil, she scampered up the hill with someone named Thorn to the nearest toilet (or reasonable facsimile). It was a typical outhouse with enough light shining in so you could see what you needed to see and everything you wanted to avoid seeing. My girl takes a seat and promptly notices what she calls a "big hairy Wolf Spider."

And poof! Instant constipation.

Accompanied by the usual irritability. Super. Just in time to explore the falls.

And so, what followed was an hour or two that included a lot of grousing, lack of participation, inability to see the humor in things and eventually, tears of frustration.

I was pretty sure, the tears had little to do with a clogged drain. But we'd start there.

I offered to walk with my gal through the woods (a good walk will get your motor running!) and go back to the cabin where an actual flushing toilet, however rust stained, awaited her bare bottom. I could be reasonably sure that I could rid the place of spiders, snakes, bees and other vermin before Her Highness took to the throne.

And while she sat and went about her business at her leisure, I sat on the other side of the door (guarding against all intruders of any size, shape and number of legs) and chatted with my littlest angel.

She missed her Dad. (It's an ugly job but someone has to do it.)
She missed her dog. (Probably more than she missed her Dad)
She felt guilty about not calling him the night before (He'd told her to...)
And wondered if her brother was doing alright with no one to deflect Dad's attention (My words, her thoughts...)

So once she finished what she'd come to start, I handed her my phone and told her to dial her dad. I also told her to focus on the fun things...Fabio, and the fossil. (he'd use any grim news like the toilet situation to convince her never to come back)

She brightly described the frog and the fossil and the cabin and the lake and the falls and all the other wonders of nature we were experiencing. And I think she convinced herself that she really was having a good time.

My girl practically skipped to the Mess Hall to join in a round of thankful songs before digging in to a daisy shaped chicken patty with her pals to power up for an hour of Funyaking on the lake.