We pretty much planned our entire trip from Dallas to my long time friend’s home in Arizona. However, after we left my friend’s home we had absolutely no idea where the heck we were going, except we knew we eventually had to make it to a wedding reception in Price, Utah later that week.
Oh the crazy things you’ll do on the spur of the moment–like sleep on a mystery mountain because you’re too tired to drive any further. Plus, making up stories about rattlesnake-bears is just way too much fun with three very gullible children.
See, I get those boys back for all the stress they put me through.
On the spur of the moment we decided to visit Montezuma’s Castle in central Arizona. It is something I have always wanted to do and since we had plenty of time we figured it was the perfect moment to do so. The perfect moment except we were confused about the time, because as we found out most of Arizona does not observe Daylight Savings Time. So we drove up to the entrance gate to be met by a very nice Park Ranger to be told the monument had just closed. However, she also told us about a very nice campground not too far from Montezuma’s Castle.
Beaver Creek something-er-another. It was twenty minutes north that’s all I know.
I am so glad we found the campground as it was one of the best ones we stayed at during our vacation. It was an absolutely wonderful place to settle our bodies after several days of intense heat. The campground was cooler in temperature than any other place we had stayed at thus far.
The kids were just happy to get out of the van and play. Their dad took them on a small hike where they found a crawdad in a creek and the boys had fun breaking glow-sticks I had bought at Micheals and then flinging glow-in-the-dark juice all over the inside of the tent. It never did get dark that night.
I think the only real scary moment at the campground was when the kids began picking up large stones and throwing them as high as they could. I barely escaped my own death…or at least a knock out…with that fiasco.
But I have learned to count my blessings that I do have boys that love me as much as I love them. I have discovered that it is all these small things that they do that I find myself laughing about on down the road. I’ve come to accept that boys really will be boys. It is inherent and naturally born inside of them to be curious.
Look, things could be worse. I know they could be. I read my children’s great-great-aunt’s account of her childhood memories of her brothers:
“While we were living in Spring Glen, Utah...my father was working in the coal mines that abound in the area. Perhaps the most frightening experience of this time occurred when one evening I was in the yard playing when a truck pulled into the driveway. My father jumped out, and this in itself was strange, because I knew he was working the graveyard shift. When I saw the bandages on his hand, I ran into the house to get mother. It was soon after this that another traumatic accident happened. My older and younger brothers were playing the eternal game of boys that I have never learned the name of, where they attempt to stick a knife up in the lawn in certain positions. I don’t know which boy flipped the knife, but it was suddenly in mother’s skull and blood was streaming down her face. To this day I shudder when that particular memory comes back.”
See, I told you it could be worse.