I had a wonderful visit with my sister and my nephew this week. While the kids ran around like hooligans, ignoring bedtimes, threatening each other with light sabers and engaging in epic battles of Wii Carnival; my sister and I bonded over my numerous scrapbooks and, by bonded, I mean that I tied her to a chair and held her hostage until she had looked at every single book plus the ten thousand photos that we took on our trip to Disney three years ago. She was a really good sport about that whole deal.
She was also a really good sport about us strapping her five-year old to an inflatable tube and then trying to drown him. In our defense, had he just let go of the handles on the tube when it became apparent that it was going under rather than, um, floating; I'm certain we could have avoided the whole ugly scene.
As it was, my nephew came up sputtering, my sister didn't have to leap into the water to save him and, after much cajoling and encouragement; he tried the tube(now, with more air!), again and, while I can't say he enjoyed the ride (his cries of "Stop the boat! I don't liiiike thiiiis!" being mostly ignored), at least he got back on the horse.
So to speak.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and, Barbie and my nephew left this morning. We will miss them and, not just because I get a huge kick out of torturing my nephew.
Tomorrow, Hugh, the kids and I are off to Lake Powell with Chris, Jana and their gang. We are almost certain to have a good time and, with any luck, we won't repeat the mistake of dragging one of our offspring under the water on an accidentally under-inflated tube.
You know, unless we lack for entertainment.