Today I pack up my little SUV (all those marathon games of Tetris come in handy when packing up a week’s worth of five people’s stuff and entertainment into a space that I swear does not exceed 30 square inches) And as I was reflecting on my summers here in the past, I had a fond memory that I wanted to share. Here it is, in a post I wrote two summers ago:

Hike Until You Hurl

My dad and I took the four older kids hiking. When I use the word “hiking” that is certainly what I mean. No wide trails for these preschoolers, no sir! My father has never picked a hike that didn’t have some risk of death or dehydration in its difficulty level. All went well…we had snacks, water, and even the hiking backpack in case Cameron, my three year old daughter, got tired. We had the requisite water breaks every 25 yards and emergency potty stops. We had the complaints about spider webs and snack options. But all this is just a normal hiking-with-kids experience.

It wasn’t until Charlie, my five-year-old, really started complaining that we hit a new level of “adventure”. Charlie is a very mild mannered kid who loves being outside, so the fact that he was moaning, “i hate hiking! This is the worst thing in the world” was a bit unusual. When he found a snakeskin and didn’t leap for joy, I knew something wasn’t quite right. When we finally hit the old access road that signaled we were almost home, he started puking. Hmm, maybe clam chowder wasn’t the best lunch choice pre-hike. We managed to carry/drag him to where my dad brought the car around, and then headed down the windy mountain road toward home. Five minutes in, he warns me that he has to throw up again.

I glance wildly around the car for any appropriate vomit vessel, and the only thing I can find is Cameron’s craft from church earlier that day. It is a pink paper gift bag, with a gift tag that says, “To You, Love God.” I toss him the bag, he tosses his cookies.

Sounds like a book title, “What to do when God’s gift is a paper bag of throw-up”.

Cameron had her requisite tantrum over said gift, but we smoothed that over with promises of everlasting movies and popsicles. Five hours and two movies later, peace was restored. Charlie recovered fully and Cameron forgot about her gift bag. Only time will tell if Charlie’s view of hiking will ever fully heal.