The Escape Artist

Every year, one weekend in October, my husband's family and extended family go camping out in the desert of Southern Nevada where his grandmother was born and where his great grandparents and great great grandparents lived. This is a family reunion that lasts for several days with about 130 people. It's great fun! We just got back from this year's trip a week ago, and there are many stories to tell.

One afternoon while we were camping, the shortest one was doing the head bob during lunch. He was so tired he just could not stay awake. So after lunch my husband put him down for a nap in our tent and then my husband went off to go shooting with his cousins. The shortest one fussed for a bit and then was quiet, so I assumed all was well. Yes, that was my mistake. But in mydefense, that's how it works at home.

So a little while later, here comes the shortest one walking around the end of my husband's uncle's trailer. My brother-in-law had just been over by our tent, so I asked him if he let the shortest one out. He said he hadn't but he'd heard him rustling around by the door. I thought, oh no, the tent must be destroyed inside!

So I went to our tent to see what the damage was. The door was still zipped. I unzipped it and went inside. The tent was fine except that the portable crib was tipped over. So this is what I deduced had happened. The shortest one had rocked the portable crib until it tipped over, which wasn't extremely hard to do since it was on uneven ground in a tent. Then he had shimmied out under the door of the tent.

After that we just didn't put him down for a nap while we were camping. It just worked out better that way.