Snake Pits of Death, Bologna Sandwiches, and Grey Hair

Nephew13 is visiting again this weekend… for the last time.  While I was innocently eating my lunch at a picnic table in Gettysburg enjoying my time with family in the warm breezy air, Nephew13 observed, “Hey, Aunt Jackie—you have a big spot of grey hair right in the middle of your forehead.”  Tammy, you need to talk to your boy about what not to say to women.

Nephew13 was lucky to be eating lunch with us at a picnic table and not stuck at the bottom of a boulder.  As usual when he visits, we headed to Little Round Top and Devil’s Den so that he and his cousins could swarm over the boulders, leaping and bounding over the Snake Pits of Death, turning my hair grey (ahem) from watching their casual attitudes toward life and soundness of limb.

This time, Nephew13 managed to slide down a boulder and then couldn’t figure out how to get back up.  He couldn’t walk around the boulder because he was hemmed in by Snake Pits of Death and poison ivy. Our plan of action was to toss him a bologna sandwich and come back for him when the first frost killed the ivy.

Wait…where are you going? Don’t leave me!

But when we called his mom to tell her that her son would be living under a boulder and foraging for berries until the frost, she said, “You get my boy out of there, or no more employee discounts for you.”

We got him out.

Those employee discounts are sweet.

And, warning, sappiness ahead: Nephew13 also observed (after his crushing remarks about my grey hair) that he thinks climbing on these rocks in Gettysburg will end up being one of his favorite growing up memories.  Awwww.

Berries are good for you. Nephew13 could live off of these quite nicely.

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