TITLE: Grand-boys are fun
By Fiona Dorothy Stevenson
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We had our two grandsons, five and seven years old, for a week of their school holidays. We were never allowed to have them for the whole school holidays as Mum said they came home too thoroughly spoiled. This holiday we planned five days camping, and spent one day planning and packing the car, the older boy calling from the list and ticking off as items were loaded. The younger man was in charge of nibblies, drinks, and his own toys. It was mid-summer, and a drought season, so we left out the umbrellas and raincoats.
That night we reviewed our routes, places of interest, and camping grounds. It was almost too fun to sleep, but sleep we did.
A very early start, and a stop for breakfast an hour and a half down the road. All was going well. Another half hour and the first drops of rain fell. By midday it was torrential. We revised our plans. That night we hired a cabin. In the morning the rain was still falling, but we visited the radio telescopes, and did a bit of fossicking, growing taller in the mud. The rain was intermittent, and we were able to stop at many places of interest, both indoors and out, stretching our legs and shaking off the damp. That night we slept in a caravan.
The following day we visited a sapphire farm, where we bought buckets of mud and washed it assiduously in the area provided. Showers were still falling. We paddled back and forth barefoot, sloshing mud and water over ourselves and each other. Jared found a small dogtooth sapphire. Otherwise we found only a few chips. At midday we rinsed each other down with the hose, and went back to the car. I had laid out dry clothes on the seats beforehand, and as we struggled out of the wet clothing and into the dry, Jared turned to me with a huge, happy grin.
“Granny, you treat us rotten!”
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