Frasier has already camped 3 times in her short life, but just put a fourth notch on her outdoorswoman's belt with a night on Lake George with the Dogtor and OPA.
The Dogtor explains her experience best:
"Fray had a blast, but didn't fall asleep until it was dark out and then woke up whenever the loons talked. The crows got her up a good hour early. But beyond the lack of sleep and teetering on the edge of tantrums, she had fun with the boys. She kayaked, played in the tube, drove the boat, jumped off the back of the boat, roasted marshmallows, played with sparklers, sang by the campfire, looked at the moon..."
She didn't drown, split her head on the rocks, or launch face-first into the fire. A success in Mama's eyes.
AND SHE DROVE THE BOAT? Oh, okay. Makes sense. Exhausted two-year olds hopped up on ice-cream sandwiches make for rational, cool-under-pressure drivers...
When she got home, the only coherent sentence I picked up on (other than the imperative NO. NO. NO.) was "I heard loons." I'm sure that sound was eerie for a toddler in a tent....
The underslept, pony-tailed beast that was returned to me yesterday evening woke up refreshed. Or almost.
This morning she said, "Mama loves loons, too?" I do. Very much.