Off to Cub Scout camp for the second year in a row.
This is Henry's favorite place on earth. He gets to run around with a pack of boys, shoot bb guns, whittle wood of some sort with his very own pocket knife, shoot arrows at a target, and all other manner of manly-type activities.
I mean, come on. It's pure goodness for an eight-year old.
And a forty-six year old.
And Camp Brinkley kick-off mornings are always happy ones.
Stella plays a tune. Which is somewhere between cute, plinky sounds and oh-my-gawd-make-it-stop-please.
Louie has no idea what the hell is going on.
This is Henry at his happiest. Oh the possibilities of camp...
And Stella at her craziest. Let's wrestle before you take off! Yes!
Random, stinky summer kid feet.
Stella and Louie watching Dave load the truck.
Saying our farewells.
And they're off.
Stella and I have big plans for a girls' weekend, which involve two types of wings: fairy and chicken.
But that's a story for another time.
Until then...happy trails, you cute campers.
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