Mommm...He's stealing my garbage!!!

So we went camping this last weekend.

The trip to the campsite was uneventful, except for the raccoon conversation.

O: I wanna do Raccoons.

Hubby: You wanna do Raccoons?

O: Yep

H: How do you do Raccoons?

O: I want to hunt them. With sticks. And whip them. And then have RACCOON CHICKEN!!!!!

So according to the 4yo, when you go camping, you whip raccoons. With sticks. And make raccoon chicken. How and what raccoon chicken is....I'll leave that to his inner thoughts.

_______________________________________________________________________

Our second night of camping we did however get to see raccoons. Well, my husband and I did. The kids gave up the fight and sacked out about an hour before they tromped their way into camp. They being, mom and her 3 babies. We were sitting up waiting for the fire to die out, which was the only light in our camp at the time. We heard a rustling in the bushes about 3 feet away from us. My husband jumps up to turn the lantern on. (The latern that could light up the world if given the chance). So they opted for a much darker entry, over by the car, where coincidentally the dog had spilled his food earlier. Mmmm, breakfast.

At this point my husband and I start in talking like raccoons, because this is what adults do when left to their own devices when out camping late at night. Remarks of:

You're not going to eat that because it's on the ground?

Well if you're just gonna leave it there I think I'll just take care of that for you.

What? I'm a raccoon, we don't have Starbucks!

I'm just trying to work here!

And then when the babies start fighting, Mommm! He's stealing my garbage!!!

P.S. Where was the dog during all this? In the tent with the kids, either so asleep he couldn't hear the ruckus, or too scared to make a peep!