August 2008

August 21

We might even go again next year

I won’t bore you all with details of our previous two weekends worth of camping.  Suffice it to say that the first weekend rained, but we had a great time, and the second weekend was hot and sunny… and we had a great time.  The girls adjusted as well as can be expected.  Neither rate particularly high on the adaptability scale.  We learned a lot ourselves after the first weekend, which helped the second time around. 
 
But, I won’t stop the blog there.  I have two stories to share, both concerning Bronwyn.  The first happened when we were camping with Ben and Sarah, and it was raining… AGAIN.  In fact, it never stopped raining, just differed in intensity.  Holly was napping in the tent, and we wanted to play cards.  Bronwyn was bored, so we decided to let her play in the car.  I opened the driver side door and let her climb in.  I even took off her shoes (although I don’t know why, it looked like a hurricane had been through there anyway).  She then announced she wanted my keys.  I didn’t exactly think this was a good idea, but I wanted to play cards.  So, after determining that Bruce did indeed have his set on him, I allowed her to take my keys and close the door to play “car”.  Not fifteen minutes later, we hear the sound of a distant radio playing. 
“Ugh” I say.  “Why must people play their music while they are camping?!”.
 
It is then I look over to see Bronwyn, face stricken, holding onto the steering wheel for dear life.  I rush over when I realize that the music I heard, was coming from inside OUR car.  Bronwyn had found the right key, inserted it into the ignition and turned enough to start the car.  Well, not start, it is a standard.  But the music and lights got turned on.  The record in my family for this milestone has been three.  Bronwyn had just turned two a few weeks ago. 
 
Can anybody do better than that?!
 
Fast forward to the next weekend with my family.  The menfolk were fishing and the womenfolk did what womenfolk do: take the kids and go somewhere to gossip.  After cleaning up of course!  Anyway, my mom was pushing Bronwyn on the swing at the park we found, and decided to run underneath her as she pushed.  I remember her doing this to us as kids, and it was SO fun.  My sister Stephanie decided to join in the game, pushing Bronwyn underdog style.  My mom and sister had a brief argument over what it was called.  My mom thought it was an underpush, but Stephanie disagreed, and called it an underdog.  Bronwyn settled the dispute by happily demanding a “puppy push”.
August 12

Well, he calls me Julie now…

When Richard was about Bronwyn’s age, he got it into his head that my name was Sarah.  He was unfailing in his determination that my parents had somehow got my name wrong for 7 years, and that he would be the one to remedy the situation.  This is the same boy who called himself “Rachel” in front of the entire elementary school. 
 
My dad would sit him down and say, “Say Julie”. 
And Richard would blurt out, “Sarah”. 
My dad would continue, “Say Ju”. 
“Ju” Richard would announce triumphantly. 
“Very good, now say ‘lee'”.
“Lee” Richard would trumpet.
“Alright, now say ‘Julie'” my dad would instruct.
“SARAH!” Richard would shout back.
 
Fast forward 20 years:
 
Bruce: Bronwyn, say 1-2-3!
Bronwyn: 2-3-2!
Bruce: No, let’s try again, say 1-2-3!
Bronwyn: 2-3-2!!
Bruce: NO, it starts with ONE, say ONE!!
Bronwyn: One.
Bruce: That’s right, 1-2-3.
Bronwyn: 2-3-2!
Bruce: Say one.
Bronwyn: One.
Bruce: Say two.
Brownyn: Two.
Bruce: Say three.
Bronwyn: Three.
Bruce: Great, now say 1-2-3.
Bronwyn 2-3-2!!!
 
What little hair Bruce has left is turning grey…

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