Boys Will Be Boys...

I bet there are other Moms besides me that think about what the kids would like to have for dinner when they come home to visit. Am I right? So it threw me for a loop when I returned home late afternoon Tuesday to discover hotdog buns on the counter. Natureman informed me that he had made potato salad and that he thought it would be a good night to have a 'cookout.' He has this thing about 'cookouts. I don't get it. I glanced over at Simon and he didn't seem vehemently opposed to the hotdog meal but it certainly wasn't what 'I' had envisioned for dinner. I was thinking of something a bit more substantial since the previous night's meal had been our soup canning project of the day.

Natureman had even mowed so I could couldn't use the excuse of snakes awaiting me in the mid calf high grass but don't think for a moment I wasn't visualizing being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Yes, I could see my way down to the picnic bench and campfire site. See it way down there? It always means 'schlepping'. Schlepping everything down there and back. Not to mention the forgotten item trips. I know, it's good exercise! And least it wasn't a 100 degrees and actually pleasant temperaturewise, BUT it had rained.(TRANSLATION: Rain equals BUGS)

And yes siree Bob the flies had a welcoming committee like they had never had anybody visit them before. You've heard of 'bar' flies, well these obviously were guitar flies. See all those dots on Simon's guitar case? Yep those are obviously music lovers. And we even had jean flies, although some mosquitoes just ate me for dinner.
Romeo didn't even want to stick around bugs nor the raging fire ... besides he would have become a (are you ready?) a 'hot dog.' SORRY farm humor.

As I looked through the smoke there were the 2 'big' boys happy as clams roasting their dogs after which they chowed them down accompanied by barbequed baked beans and homemade potato salad.

Simon even strummed a couple tunes before the mosquitoes drove me off. I guess boys will be boys. I didn't stick around to see how they were going to put out those fire coals.

Maybe my scouting campfire memories just aren't the same as these End of the Rainbow Valley guys...