Last Saturday the weather was yucky here in town and the moods in the crowd were turning that way, too. So in a last ditch attempt to salvedge the day we went to get some fast food. As we drove we discussed just going for a drive. I thought we might take back roads to Piedmont or end up back at the Base. But the interstate must’ve looked promising to Jac because he started driving east and didn’t stop. We had good tunes for the kiddos (Captain Bogg and Salty – Pegleg Tango) and soon we were out of the clouds and into blue sky. I think Jac woud’ve gone to Wall, but outside of Wasta Tess got persistent with non-stop “Fries? Me, Mama? I hungy! Fries? Me, Mama? Me!! Fries!!!” That’s where we ended up, at the little rest stop right along the Cheyenne river. We ate lunch at a picnic table and ended up right in the middle of a dust devil. Max, so much like his mother, was freaked out and announced he didn’t like the prairie wind. Ditto.
We went inside to use the facilities and the crowd charmed the ladies staffing the place. They ended up with coloring books and maps in abundance. Max signed the guestbook all by himself, too.
From there we headed outside to see if we could see the river and give the cottonwoods closer inspection. (Again, Max was creeped out by their bare white branches that looked like ‘hugenormous horns.’ I couldn’t blame him.) In the process we chased giant grasshoppers and locusts (the latter Tess announced were butterflies). We never did get to see that lazy gray river – we were too low and the grass too high, but we had a good time out on the prairie. Then the wind kicked up and we could smell the rain coming so we packed up to go. As we walked back to the van, Philip tripped over himself on a patch of ridged sidewalk and I watched as he scraped his eye on the rough cement. I got to him before he started howling and as I hoisted him up I noticed the two senior citizens in their car right there, both of them with a hand to their mouth and wide eyes. Oy.