Adventure (indeed)!

A couple weekends ago, the kids and I had the Saturday to ourselves, as Hercules was sitting "Up North" in a tree with a bow and some arrows.

I woke up that morning with a taste for adventure. Well, whatever adventure can be had by a pregnant woman with three other children, that is. I had read an article somewhere about letterboxing, a lower-tech version of geocaching. Haven't heard of either? Long story short: "treasure hunting." I found online clues to a "letterbox" hidden somewhere on a trail not too far away.

We packed a little backpack, and headed out. Adventure! Soon, we arrived at the trailhead that the clues had led us to. Adventure! The day was a bit chilly, and the kids joked "That's why they call this the Ice Age Trail!" We hiked for about a half hour on an easy forest trail, covered in a canopy leaves which were, for the most part, still green.

Dimples could barely contain his excitement. Adventure!

Best Daughter Ever was very focused and observant. Adventure!

Baby was just plain weird:
Adventure?


At long last, we discovered the cobwebbed container, well-hidden among some large stones.We were all terribly proud of ourselves, the first-time letterboxers. It was, essentially, an empty peanut butter jar, containing the expected letterbox items: a notebook and a stamp. We stamped our own notebook with their stamp, and stamped the letterbox's notebook with ours, scrawling a note with a stick and the ink pad (whoops, forgot the pen). Success! Adventure had! "Mission completion!"

After celebrating, and carefully placing the container in its original hiding place, we turned back. The walk to the van seemed much shorter this time. We began to pile in, when the kids noticed the play equipment. After some moderate begging (times three), I gave in, threw the backpack in the front seat, and waddled along to play "for 15 minutes, and then we're leaving, because I'm cold and tired and hungry!"

Fifteen minutes later, it registered:
The keys were in the backpack.
The backpack was in the front seat.
The doors were locked.
I was cold and tired and hungry.
And pregnant.


The next 2 1/2 hours were a blur of sheer stupidity. They included confused calls made on a stranger's cell phone, a police officer and an irritating know-it-all bystander dude getting the unlocker-tool-thingy stuck in my door (which inevitably cost us $250 to get removed), a ride in the back of a police car (yeah, all four of us) to a friend's house, a ride from said friend to meet my father- and brother-in-law (who brought Hercules' keys to me), a ride from same said friend (hooray for said friend) to my van, and a trip to Culvers and...




...Starbucks.


Ad-friggin'-venture. Indeed.