Patrick and Evan returned home last Saturday. A cooler full of fish, suitcases full of stinky shoes (I gagged upon unzipping!) and mouths full of adventures from the Canadian wilderness. Had I known exactly how wild the adventure with my EIGHT YEAR OLD son was going to be, I would have suggested a less remote cabin...
Yummmmmy... Get in mah belly, fishy!
In this picture, he's all clean and appears to be in a fairly developed spot!
My ears were ringing and jaw was on the floor when Patrick retold their story of getting stuck in mud up to Evan's armpits on a trek across the wilderness to another lake just to catch MORE FISH. As Pat described the freaking spear he whittled with his fish filet knife so that he could defend Evan against bears and wolves as he stood knee-deep in the icy lake beside a common drinking spot for animals, I had to sit down. When he got to the parts about spontaneously jumping into the lake to pull the boat to an island because they had run out of gas in the middle of a lake WITHOUT an oar and no one would be looking for them for about 5-7 hours, I was glad I was already sitting down!
(Totally trusting his dad to not let him get eaten by bears)
And he thinks he's taking Corinne when she turns 8?!? Hahahahahahaha!!!! Ohhh... Yeah. That'll happen.
Note: This is about what I pictured when Patrick was spinning his tale about bears and wolves and choppy waters and quicksand-mud that sucked the pants off of my little boy.* Except they weren't smiling and there was more blood involved.
*No picture of that! Dangit. I would have loved to have watched Evan cracking up as he tried to pull his mud-caked pants up from his ankles!
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