The best place to start a state park visit is in the crapper. We were not at Big Basin State Park for more than 10 minutes today, when Ford announced he had to go #2. Of course, Seth and Chas had to do this too because, well because Ford was doing it. Although half way in to the session Seth announced, “Mom, I’m going #3″. I barely had time to giggle when Ford in his stall announced, “#3 is my infinite poo number”. I’m not sure exactly what this meant but I think there was some quantum physics involved in this potty talk.
Steph is covering her ears because the kids were making this shrill combo of screams. The echo of this siren song was so unbearable that I think I have permanent damage in my right ear from taking this shot.
The kids then proceeded to scare the “crap” he he out of Steph by climbing up this ginormous log. Chas in true form would not give up his sticks for anything, even balance. Which is sort of when we surrendered the day to sticks.
It’s pretty amazing how many times you can twist a stick in your shirt. I’m pretty sure that Seth was a model in the early 80’s – oh wait that was his daddy Jim.
Ford was really precise about how his sticks were placed in his clothing. He really reminded me of those exterminate robots from Dr. Who he is so fond of.
And the dust storm. Aside from fascinating the boys no end, the patterns of the dust in the light were riveting. Eventually Seth suffered a stick wound to the knee and had to be molly coddled for a bit, but that was soon forgot and they were back to harassing redwood trees.
For the first hour I worried dreadfully about the sticks, but then I came to an understanding with my inner eye poker outer. I realized that the kids were in some sort of zen dance, because really the sticks never came close to their comrades. They seemed to be intouch with some higher spacial awareness. Either that or the trees were looking out for the little buggers.
The Day had some humor.
And some art.
And somewhere on the outskirts of the mayhem the fairies were watching us. Although the noise of our boys was deafening I can’t imagine that anything with magic would hang around.
All in all it was a boy’s kind day, in and out of trunks. Up and down logs. Banging on fence posts until ~~~~ the dreaded splinter! Chas got a splinter under his fingernail that (no joke) was the size of the log in the third photo!
Chas’ screaming was so loud that the park was emptying of tourists before our eyes. He was so brave, and teetered in agony to the ranger hut where – thank god, they were able to produce some tweezers. It was funny they kind of looked at us like why would you want tweezers, and why is that kid screaming? You’d think we were not the first visitors to suffer an splinter?
“You know mom, this post is getting long. Why don’t you give it a rest and come play shooters with us! Don’t worry mommy they’re just pretend – look it’s really a stick!”