Father n Son

Yesterday was the annual Father n' Son outing. Here are a few shots summarizing the event.


Christened "The Marriott" by Shane Manning, Logan exams his vast kingdom from his castle's portico (Logan calls the vestibule the "Garage"). I took a lot of flack for bringing such a big tent. But when I made omelets in the tent's kitchen, no one seemed to be laughing anymore.


Isaiah is strategically bundled. It wasn't that cold; Sam just wanted Isaiah's movement restricted enough so he couldn't run too far away.


I'm sure Andy Theurnaggle laments--at least on occasion--his decision to quit modeling for Ralph Lauren and matriculate into dental school. He rests assured, however, knowing that Taylor can pick up right where dad left off.


Logan's really good at toasting marshmallows. In fact, he insists on dad not helping. Blowing out the flaming sugar puffs? Not so much.


John Russell decided to sport the Russian poet look (since Garn Smith was nowhere to be found). Vondelay Reis de Silva is staring at . . . well, I'm not sure what he's looking at, but John sure thinks it's funny.

Good times by all. Good times even for Sam Meeks, who caught some rock fragmentation in his eye thanks to pre-pubescent lads that think it's funny to make fire out of small rocks rather than wood. Good times even to me, who fielded approximately 5,493 questions from Logan over the course of the campout. I have no idea why the sun is bigger than a flashlight. Bad on me.