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After our shopping spree yesterday, we arrived at a campground in Maryland around 4:00 p.m. They have a very nice water park on-site, which is included in our camping fee. We parked, hooked up the electricity and water, and ran for the pool. Whoo hoo!!

Mason couldn’t get his floaties on fast enough and Max was splashing with glee. There weren’t too many people there so it was very pleasant. Richard swam with Mason while Max and I went down the water slide over and over and over again. It was SOOOOO much fun! There were 60 steps to the slides. Yes, I counted!

I more than worked off that huge honey baked ham sandwich I chowed on yesterday afternoon.

Mason got cold after awhile and started shivering so we dried off and came back to the RV. We put on dry clothes and Richard picked up pizza for dinner, which is made on-site here. It was really good!

After dinner, we went for a walk. There was karaoke at the the pavilion. It’s Christmas in July here and some people had up Christmas decorations and lights. There were lots of kids at the playground and Max and Mason had a great time. Mason is getting more independent. He’s able to crawl up on the playground equipment and slide down the slides by himself…without falling off. One little boy who wasn’t much older than Mason was helping Mason at times. It was very sweet. Once again, as soon as the sun set just enough, he fireflies emerged. One little boy smashed one between his hands, right in front of his parents. They said nothing…so I did. I told him fireflies are very special, that they’re magic, and should be treated with gentleness and love. I told him I believe they’re fairies. I said this right in front of his parents and they were smart enough not to say anything to me because, boy oh boy, would I have let them have it.

I guess what I said worked because the boy brought me a new firefly a few minutes later and showed me how gentle he was with it.

Let me preface this next part by saying that I have nothing against people with tattoos. I would never get a tattoo myself but I know people who have tattoos and they are very nice people. Now that I have (perhaps unsuccessfully) protected myself from an onslaught of tattoo-wearers and supporters, I will continue.

Sometimes, girls have tattoos that, well, just aren’t something their mothers probably approve of. We were at the water park at this campground today and there was a woman in a bikini in line in front of us with a tattoo just above her bikini line (butt cheeks). The tattoos was, shall I say, adult in nature. I saw Max staring at it, not because he is into girls yet (thank you, Lord) but because he is very into graffiti, street art, tattoos and other forms of self-expressive artwork.

I leaned down to him and whispered, “That’s called a Tramp Stamp.”

Still staring, he whispered back behind his hand, “Mommy, what’s a Tramp Stamp?”

I replied, with a wink, “That might mean she’s not a very nice girl…if you know what I mean.”

He paused, looking puzzled for a moment, and then said, “You mean she doesn’t always say thank you?”

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