Yesterday was the Great American Backyard Campout, and because we Engels does what we's told, this is where I woke up this morning:
It was the first night of my entire life spent out of doors. And friends, I won't lie. I've been more comfortable. The ground was harder than I ever imagined a lawn could be. I kept hearing imaginary and possibly not imaginary creatures stalking around. And Dash is a notorious bed (and now tent) hog. But still, it was big fun to hang out with him in the tent, flashlights bouncing around, stories read over and over. I assumed he'd awake to pee at 2am and that would be the end of that, but he finally dropped off to sleep at 11pm (I know, mother of the year) and didn't stir until I could stand it no longer and tried to sneak out at 6:30am--waking all the tent inhabitants in the process.
But I'm definitely going to do it again. Possibly with an air mattress next time.
And because I apparently will not rest until people start calling me Ma Ingalls, we breakfasted on homemade bread, baked the night before, and the saucy jam which was less runny than I worried and really pretty tasty.