Camp meal planning

Our family is planning a small family camping vacation.  I decided that Paul, with all his Boy Scout camping experience, should take a whack at making the meal plan.  The result was something like this:

Paul: Now, how many days do I need to plan for?
Mom: I've already told you that twice.
Paul: Right, right.  Okay, Thursday evening, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning.  (calling siblings)ANY IDEAS FOR MEALS?
Petra: S'mores!
Mom: I know Julia would like to roast hot dogs.
Paul: Okay, Thursday night is hot dogs over the fire with s'mores.  Now, what for breakfast?
Petra: S'mores!
Paul: Nope, nope.  S'mores are a dinner dessert.
Julia: Can we have bacon?
Paul: Oh, no!  Trust me, bacon makes a terrible mess when you try to cook it over a fire.
Mom: Daddy will probably bring a gas stove.  And we could pre-cook the bacon.
Paul: Okay, Friday morning: pre-cooked bacon.
Julia: And sausage links?
Mom: Yes, but you need something more than bacon and sausage.
Paul: What about pancakes?
Mom: That's okay, but let's try to minimize cleanup.
Julia: We could pre-cook the pancakes and warm them up.
Mom: Yeah, that would be okay.
Paul: Friday morning: bacon, sausage links, pre-cooked pancakes.  Now what about Friday lunch?  How about sandwiches?  PB&J?
[I'm sparing you some of Paul's spelling.]
Mom: Sounds good.  We can do PB&J and ham.  I mean PB&J sandwiches and ham sandwiches, not PB&J and ham sandwiches.
Petra: And S'mores!
Paul: No, it's not for dinner yet.  What can we have for treat?
Mom: We will be coming off of Easter.  How about Easter candy?  Plus you need some fruit.
Paul: Friday lunch: sandwiches, & strawberries, easter treat. Now dinner.
Petra: S'mores!
Paul: Yes, smores.
Julia: Can we do hamburgers?  You know, with the stove again?
Paul: Friday dinner: hamburgers, s'mores.

After some discussion, Paul and Julia settled on oatmeal packets for breakfast Saturday morning.

Paul: What about lunch on Saturday?
Mom: We could do quesadillas.
Paul and Julia agreed to that.  And Paul started writing it down. 
Julia: Paul, that's not how you spell quesa-ding-diddly-dong-dillas.
Paul: I don't care.
Mom: Are you two actually arguing over how to spell quesa-ding-diddly-dong-dillas?
Paul & Julia: Yes.
Paul: And for dinner, what are we having for treat, Petra?
Petra (from 3 rooms away): S'MORES!
Paul: That's right!

Again, a fair amount of discussion, and we settled on the rest of Saturday dinner.
Paul: Saturday dinner: SPAM and cheese for Paul, and Ramen noodles and chicken, s'mores.
Mom: Are you actually going to eat SPAM?
Paul: Uh-huh.
Mom: Really?  We're going to open up the can and you're going to see this pink, rectangular rubber bouncy ball of meat covered in clear gelatin and eat it?  After I slice and cook it a little?
Paul: Can we take the gelatin off first?
Mom: Yes.
Paul: Then, yes.  And for Sunday breakfast, cold cereal cups.

I imagine that Steve and I will tweak this plan a bit.  For one, I mean to add a little more fruit and vegetable matter to our diet.  Still, the planning exercise made for an entertaining morning.

Petra's really big February: Part 2

February 9, just six days after her blackbelt test, Petra broke her wrist.

I had just gotten to work when Grandma called to tell me that she was keeping Petra home from school, because our girl had taken a bad fall down the stairs.  Grandma hadn't seen the fall, and by the time she got to the shrieking girl, Petra was kicking and thrashing violently.  As she said later, "I was pretty sure her legs were alright."  She also told me that she suspected Petra had been sliding down the railing based on where Grandma found her.

Grandma kept her on Tylenol and iced her wrist, keeping Petra quiet and the arm elevated.

It wasn't until Paul and Julia came home after school, and Petra was explaining to them what happened that Grandma realized how far she had fallen.  Petra, in trying to rush downstairs for the bus, had grabbed the railing to skip down steps.  Instead, she accidently vaulted herself over the railing from fairly high up.  We were all a little sick about the matter, though Petra was feeling somewhat better by then.

The next morning Petra complained about a bit of a headache and nausea.  We had been watching for signs of concussion, and decided this was sufficiently worrysome to take her to the urgent care for a check.

First we took her to her Black Belt Presentation that morning.  Priorities, you know.

After the presentation, Steve took her through the  McDonalds drivethrough for some lunch (a special treat) and on to the urgent care. 

Good news - no concussion.  Yay!
Bad news - a compression, or buckal, fracture of her left radius near the wrist.

She had her arm in a splint and (sometimes) sling for a week, and then I took her to an orthopedic specialist. 
I got to see the x-ray, and the doctor did a good job of explaining what I was seeing. As a material test engineer, I had a fairly viceral response to seeing the compression lines in the bone.  I asked if a cast was completely necessary since the bone was not in two pieces.  The doctor said a splint would be okay, but that they didn't generally trust children that young to be careful while the bone healed.

Since Petra had been jumping on her bed during the week and had wiggled until she nearly fell of the exam table that morning, I was forced to agree with him.  She got a cast for 3 weeks.

It was pink camo.  With purple glitter.

Petra's really big February: Part 1

Way back in January of 2014 little 4 year old Petra started Tae Kwon Do classes.  She spent the first several months preening in front of the mirrors, and periodically having to hold a board to the wall with her forehead for not paying attention to her instructors.  Slowly, she learned to pay attention and do the techniques.

On February 3rd 2018 Petra had her black belt test.  We were all so proud of her.  We got to the Tae Kwon Do school at 9:30 in the morning and had to sit on the mat and wait until noon for her test.  She was the only child testing for 1st degree black belt, so she stood on the mat in front of the judges all by herself while the instructor called out all the strikes, blocks, and kicks she was to demonstrate.  She went  back and forth until she was nearly stumbling with fatigue. 
She performed one-step self defense techniques.
She free sparred.

It took a bunch of attempts for her to break her board for the back wheel kick speed break.  She got frustrated and had to take a break, but she didn't cry.  I think I would have cried, so I was pretty impressed with her.  After a breather, she tried a couple more times and broke her board.

She did a really big girl job.

Don't spit

Thursday evening I prepared burrito makings for dinner.  Steve, Paul, and Julia ate early and left for a weapons class test.  As I served the younger two, I made my burrito into a salad on my plate.  I asked Nathan and Petra about several of the fill-in options, even though I knew they had no interest in them.

“Would you like some peppers and onions?”

“No, mommy.”

“Refried beans?”

“No, mommy!”

“Hot sauce?”

“Mommy!”

Then next thing I knew, Nathan was spitting into my salad.  At first I was incensed, because I thought he was making commentary on my burrito options.  And I don’t like spitting.  I think it’s gross. 

“But, mommy,” he said, looking genuinely distressed, “There was something in my mouth, and I had to get it out.”

Okay, so he wasn’t spitting into my salad to be offensive.  He just needed to get something out of his mouth, and in his five year old mind, mommy’s plate is as good a place to spit and relieve distress as anywhere else.  I still made him run 3 laps up and down the stairs to reinforce that we do not spit into people’s food.  Eww.

We sat down to eat and partway through my salad I bit into something hard.  I figured there must have been a bit of bone from the beef in the salad.  I fished it out, and instead of bone it was a little tooth.

Ewww!  Ugh. Agh.  “A tooth?  What?  Nathan, open your mouth.”

Sure enough, he was missing one of his front lower incisors. 

Ewww!  Ugh. Agh.  I was almost crying.  “Yay, Nathan!  You just lost your first baby tooth! Congratulations!”  Aaagh.