Most years for Memorial weekend, you can find us with the family in West Virginia. We have very busy plans of doing nothing all day long punctuated by bonfires at night. This year was no exception.
Our "cabin" is my dad's hunting hideaway. The women get to visit when there isn't any game in season. It's barely a two room shack with bunk beds and an outdoor toilet. But it's pretty nice as far as shacks go.
But when you stay in a one bedroom shack with a baby, you're pretty much bound by baby's schedule. If JT napped, we stayed on the porch. This probably helped keep us from overeating much since the snacks were inside and he napped about 3-4 hours each day. If JT was awake, everyone was awake because he isn't very quiet.
Here he is patrolling the bunks for sleepers:
Aha! He spots some!
Wake up, Aunt Theresa and Uncle Bill. Wake up! "No, no... go away," they say.
Having no luck with his aunt and uncle, JT moves on to Grandpa. "Here's your water, Grandpa. This will ease the cruel blow of morning. I heard you were up pretty late."
"Oh good, you're up. I've been dying to know which is harder, this block or your head. Lean down here and let me find out."
"Uh-oh. Do you think he'll still make us breakfast?"