All families have their own kind of disfunction. Ours is no different. No matter how hard we try, it seems we can never leave for a camping trip without Commuter Husband and I wanting to do bodily harm to the other.
We have been camping many, many times through our 18 years of marriage. Oldest Son and Youngest Son both crawled at campsites. You would think we would have this particular transaction conquered. But alas it is not meant to be.
Each trip has its own set of circumstances. I will not go into all the gory details but our targeted leave time of 2:30 pm was in actuality 6:15pm. During that time we had to make seven (!) unexpected stops to complete various tasks. One errand included purchasing new windshield wiper blades because it was raining and our visibility was nil.
By the time we hit the road, the atmosphere of the overly loaded Expedition was tense indeed. The boys wisely focused on reading and playing video games.
Then I spotted the sign. Bakers Ribs. In addition to the bad moods, none of us had eaten dinner. With as few a words as possible, I navigate Commuter Husband to the restaurant. I announce "Pie" as we pull in to the gravel parking lot. Youngest Son looks up and yells for joy.
We eagerly wolf down our scrumptious BBQ sandwiches and fried okra. The boys bite into their chocolate pies.
Youngest Son sincerely announces "We should do this more often."
Given the past five hours of angst, Commuter Husband totally cracks up at this remark and we all look at each other and break a smile.
Youngest Son naively asks "Whaaaat?"
All families also have that one person who brings laughter and comedic relief. Thank you Youngest Son.
(Private Note to First Cousin Once Removed: they finally got their promised pie!)
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