The blog has been quiet this past week. We trekked up to the north woods of Wisconsin to attend a week’s worth of Boy Scout camp.

The mosquitos were plentiful but Internet connectivity was scarce. And I left my computer at home to enjoy a week of down time.

Michael is working as a high adventure counselor at the camp he attended as a scout. We decided to visit him for a week and live at Family Island.

The accommodations were comfortable even as we managed to sleep six of us in a one-room cabin. The activities were mostly old school camp stuff: swimming, hiking, canoeing, archery, bb guns, rifles, and arts and crafts. Sam tried to teach me how to weave paracord and tie a monkey’s fist knot. Which was a significant test of marital patience.

We visited a re-enacted logging camp where we sawed wood, created our own brand, and threw tomahawks. Apparently, Mary Frances and Veronica are remarkably good at throwing sharp objects.

The kids also had a chance to forge their own tomahawk blade. Nothing like hammering hot iron.

There were a few new things sprinkled in throughout the week: a climbing tower, paddleboards, kayaking, mountain biking, a low ropes course, and the aqua trampoline. Our last activity was a 5k walk/run throughout camp which ended with root beer floats. But there was one activity that was new to all of us.

The Flying Squirrel.

This genius contraption is not for the faint of heart. After securing a helmet onto your head and stepping into a harness, you begin to run one direction as a team of scouts runs the opposite way. There are some physics involved which escape me. But the result is that the individual is pulled into the air and begins swinging from a bar. I’m told it’s great fun and that it’s safe. I was barely able to watch.

But Mary Frances and Johnny were game. As Johnny waited for his final instructions, he looked over to me and said, “Mom, I’m scared.” His emotional intelligence is sharp but his courage isn’t dull. He was locked in and ready for the adventure. Here’s how it happened.

If I could figure out a way to get that contraption and the 6 sprinting scouts into our van, I would gladly bring The Flying Squirrel home and set it up in the yard.

It’s just what we need around here.