we like to hike.

Last night, we took another campout. This time, we went to Mt. Kitazuma, which is about a two mile hike from camp. Now, this number does not appear to be particularly daunting, until one considers the fact that the hike took place in the sunlight on an 80 degree day with 29 children with heavy packs on their backs. I sat them down before we started the hike and gave them a small speech. I said, "Do not tell us it is hot. We know. Do not tell us your packs are heavy. So are ours. Do not tell us you don't want to walk anymore. You will walk. Do not ask how much longer. We will not answer. Just enjoy God's creation and keep complaints inside." Well, that approach apparently was not the most effective. I was at the front of the pack and got them to the top of the mountain pretty quickly. As we waited for the others to arrive at the campsite, we heard screams of agony. I was worried because I thought that someone may have been hurt. That was not the case. It was just a child who didn't want to carry his pack anymore and was wailing because he had to. I am not sure I can express how little sympathy I felt. The campsite where we stayed was INCREDIBLY dusty. The children looked like Bill Cosby about 15 minutes in. It was painfully nasty. The kids went and got wood and we built a fire for their hot dogs. This time, we managed to have enough hot dogs for every child, due largely to the fact that our... larger camper from first session is gone. Then we took the kids to the pretty overlook and hung out there. We started playing the "would you rather..." game, and the things the kids came up with were HILARIOUS. They were like, "Would you rather eat poop or kiss your sister?" And they were all like, "EAT POOOOOOOOOP!!!" except for one kid who was like, "Kiss my sister" and everyone just looked at him awkwardly and pretended like he hadn't spoken. Well, we watched the sun go down, and I think that was a cue for our kids to go flippin insane. Four children went into meltdown mode with the setting of the sun. Two kids cried almost to the point of making themselves vomit because they were homesick. One pooped his pants, changed them, then pooped the other pair he brought, so he was freaking out in every way possible because he didn't want to stay at the campsite because he was covered in feces, but didn't want to walk because he was dirty. Another child (similar to the hot dog double-fister from session 1a) just crapped his pants and didn't tell anyone. He didn't have to though. The smell told the whole story for him. Umm, gross. We changed him and then said, "It is time to sleep... NOW." So, we put the tribe to sleep, and, in a random twist of the norm, I got a great night of sleep. So, here I sit in my office, thanking Jesus that I finally feel better and well-rested. Hmm. Oh yes... Sad, Mavs. Save Britney.