Rooftop

Last year on the last non-school night before Jr. High my oldest and I slept on the roof of our clinic. Last night, in an attempt to carry on the tradition, we slept (in a tent) on the roof of the patio of our home. I say sleep in the figurative sense, since I don't do too well sleeping in a tent.

If bonding moments are stronger forged in hardship, then I suppose my near-comatose state for most of today means that this newly minted tradition should serve our father-son relationship well. Except he slept very well, and had a great time.

Well, that's good too.

Had we both been in our rooms last night, we could not have had our whispered (for whose sake we were whispering is not clear, no one was around to hear us) conversation at 3:40 this morning between sleeping fits about his recent camping experiences, as well as other stuff.

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We had a fun dinner with the Grandparents tonight, all sitting around a big table eating delicious home-cooked soup, raving about yams, and engaging in many separate and occasionally unified conversations.

Tomorrow is the first day of school.