Attacking Squirrels and other Misadventures

After a much needed break from society (no offense to those reading), I feel like myself again. My alter ego, "Mean Mom" is gone, replaced by a kinder, gentler person who I forgot existed. Vacations really are the best.

We spent the first two days in St. George with our friends the Nelsons and the Andertons and then drove to Zion for the last day of our trip. I love hiking in Zion so much. It's not really strenuous, and that's why I think I like it so much. The girls were ecstatic playing in the dirt and climbing up on the rocks. Every time we go to Zion, we have to hike up to the trail head of the Narrows so Ty can jump in the frigid water and re-prove his daringness. It was a little chilly this year, so I wasn't sure he was up for it. Plus, five minutes after we got there, the river claimed one kid's flip flop and no one was brave enough to jump in and fight for it. That little shoe is still out there somewhere, probably making a new home for an attack squirrel, but I'll get to that. After lunch, yes, Ty did get in the river.

Here he is keeping tradition and going all the way under:
But, wait! There go his flip flops. He's got to swim now, but me and about thirty other people watching know they're goners.

Look how fast that water is moving. You can see Ty up in the left corner climbing out in defeat. Oh, how little faith I have. Ty found the flip flops after all! I could not believe it.

Some of you are wondering why I couldn't get one shot of Ty and his feet together, and that is a very good question. Like I said, I was in shock and still planning my "you're hiking barefoot because I am not going home" speech.

Other entertaining misadventures of the day included lunch cave-man style. We had to hover over the food and keep a constant watch. The squirrels in Zion, you see, are well fed on trail mix, and they have gotten very brave. I was kicking them away from my lunch all day, and I swear one of them figured out how to unzip my backpack and pull out the crackers I hid there. I came over to find the guilty little guy with his head four inches deep in cracker heaven, and the funniest part was that he didn't run away in shame and fear when I nudged his head with my foot. Doesn't that violate some sort of squirrel code? Absolutely no human contact from closer than two feet. The ones in the real wild seem to abide by it.

Anyway, we had some good laughs. Now I'm wondering where we can go next for cheap.