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.
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.
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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