Going to a farm? OK, no problem. Gonna be all day? No sense whining about it. Turns out that most of the parents bailed, so I’m getting assigned ten kids today? …Look, it’s not like I have a choice anyway. By now all the teachers know that I’m a stay-at-home and a soft touch. And it’s not the teachers’ fault that they lost most of their parent chaperones. But then the rain started. This wasn’t regular rain, either. This was SCA camping event rain*, grim and determined and not in a hurry to go anywhere. The kind of rain that makes the kind of mud that turns into a slippery deathtrap on any kind of slope.
Normally, I’m that horrible kind of father who will chaperone, come back, and then not sign out my children because it’s only 1:30 and they still can get a full hour and a half of schooling out of their day. I know, yes: monster in human form, but we live within walking distance of the school, so I can be hard-nosed about it. but not this day. This day we got the heck out of there as soon as we got back. And I told my kids that it was a Pizza Night. Because dear Lord, but that mud. I could feel myself sliding down the hill while still standing still. Not fun.
Moe Lane
*If it had been Pennsic War rain we’d have been back by 12:30 PM.
I’ve heard stories about Pennsic War Rain.
About rain falling sideways and being blown by the wind around 3 corners of the compass in less than 5 minutes.
About campground runoff with whitecaps in it.
About thunder that sounded like a giant laughing.
Gotta wonder what those SCA druid types were doing in their spare time.
Drinking, fornicating, and complaining about the heat, just like the rest of us. 🙂
Spare time. SPARE time.
D,F and C sounds like required behavior at a Pennsic War.