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Although, if I had heard “I’m thirsty, I want some water, will you buy me a water, please???” one more time, it might have been an entirely different story.
Other than frequent- and passionate-declarations of dehydration, the field trip went quite well. The Man-Cub boarded the bus at 8:30 and I dutifully pulled in behind for the forty-five minute drive to the falls. I chose to drive rather than to ride the bus because, unlike some of the other parents, I cherish my sanity and I wanted to protect it which, mission accomplished.
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During the lovely scenic drive, I reminisced to myself about the field trips that my classmates and I used to take in elementary school and I could almost taste the flavor of a Hostess fruit pie in my mouth; field trips were the rare occasions upon which my mother deemed it appropriate to spend her hard earned money on “that crap”. Now that I am a mother myself, I fully understand her point of view but; I still cherish the memory of those apple pastries.
Once we arrived at the falls, it was a whirlwind of activity. It was a half-mile hike to the top of the falls and, I’m really glad that I have let Jillian have her way with me for the past month because; I was able to make the hike minus the heavy breathing that some of the other parents exhibited.
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After the falls, we picnicked in Town Park and then toured the local historical museum where the biggest hit with my assigned group of boys was a room in which rocks and minerals fluoresced under black light; not that the minerals and rocks were the big draw-that honor went to the waistbands of the boys’ underwear which also fluoresced in a most glowing fashion under the black light. Side note: boys are weird. Also, easily entertained.
Once I was finally able to drag the boys away from giggling over the brightness of their tighty-whities and the alien-like glow of their own teeth (also a huge hit), they boarded the bus for the trip home; the end of the trip coinciding nicely with my wit's end at the aforementioned whining over thirst.
And, another successful stint as a chaperone goes down in the books.
Now, if I could just get over this inexplicable craving for Hostess fruit pie.
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