Herd instinct

What could be more fun than going to the rodeo?  Going to the rodeo with a class of 5- and 6-yr-old children!  Yes, Pete's school had a field trip, and I volunteered to be a chaperone (again).

Now, having been a foster carer, I'm very comfortable telling other people's kids how to behave.  I actually have a suspicion that shouting at children is the reason God put me upon this earth, but I do have occasional moments of clarity when I think: "Maybe these parents don't like me disciplining their kids.  Especially in this restaurant/playground/Disneyland.  When I've never met them before."  Then I realise: "No, it's obviously fine, they've seen Mary Poppins, and I sound just like her."

Which is why school trips are great, because you're doled out a certain number of kids and sent off, with nothing more than a time and place to catch the bus at the end.  True, a little more educational content would be welcome, but I just assume that this responsibility falls on my shoulders as well, so regurgitated anything I'd managed to half-remember from spending time on my aunt's farm.

Luckily I had fellow parent Carolina to help me out, who is sensible, and fun, and popular with the kids, so it wasn't a complete catastrophe.  We watched calves and piglets being born in the "Agventure Arena", saw champion goats being judged, earned fake dollars (and a real chocolate bar) growing plastic vegetables, and petted and fed animals ranging from rabbits to llamas.

At the end of a long day we re-boarded the school bus and crawled home through Houston rush hour traffic.  Well, most of us did.  I simply opened my umbrella and flew off into the sunset, ready for when I'm needed next.

The rodeo is used to hosting lots of animals, but few as wild as these.

Case in point.

"The judges are looking for...um...four legs, two eyes, a tail..." I wisely taught my charges.

Some more entrants.

The funnest side of farming.

Carolina, far more nurturing and caring than me.

When goats attack!

We also learned about healthy eating.

Pete, chaperone in training.

Day at the races.

A tired bus ride home.

Pony parade

The rodeo's back in town!  Houston Livestock Show And Rodeo is, naturally, the largest in the world, and we all go crazy for it.  Many people trail ride in from hundreds of miles around and parade through the centre of the city, all before the madness of roping, branding, and sitting-on-a-bull-until-it-throws-you-off has even begun.

Pete's school opted for something more sedate, which was a pony parade on Go Texan Day.  The only slight parental annoyance was that we had to make the ponies ourselves, and a detailed fact sheet on the matter come home in the school bag.  Being the good student I am I followed it to the letter, stealing one of Hannah's old hiking socks and going from there.  So imagine my surprise on parade day to see plenty of shop bought ponies!  Disgusting.  I hope I get an A+ at the end of the year for my efforts.

The parade itself was the expected chaos, mostly because it took place in the gym due to inclemency.  The Kindergartners and Pre-K kids walked around while the rest of the school sat in the middle and cheered.  "This is the last year they get to do this," one mother told me tearfully.  I couldn't tell whether they were tears of sadness or relief.

Cowgirls and boys on the way to the corral.

And they're off!

Pete's class, with his saint of a teacher.

Ride em', cowboy!

Not homemade and a unicorn!  Completely illegal.

I got a LOT of compliments on my outfit.  "Comments and compliments are not the same thing," claimed Hannah, but she's wrong.

New adventures in scouting

It was time to dust off the canvas, check the sleeping bags for dirty underwear, and finally clean last year's mud off the hiking boots.  Yes, it was Cub Camp, when sixty young scouts are set loose in the wild and a diverse array of adults try unsuccessfully to keep them under control.

The location for this year's Spring Camp Out was Huntsville State Park; a beautiful part of Sam Houston National Forest, with a lake, tens of miles of well-maintained trails and - crucially - several alligators that wander freely.  Kids and alligators, what could go wrong?  The toilet block had lovely hot showers, and each campsite also had a fully bug-netted hut with picnic table inside, as well as light and electrical outlets.  Someone brought a microwave with them.  Does this even count as camping?

Many shenanigans took place, with the usual scouting traditions including a hike and a big campfire where "skits" were performed by each Den.  I recognised several of these from my own scouting days in Britain in the mid-80s, and they were about as funny now as they were then, but it's comforting to watch these things cross generations and continents.

Being hardcore, we stayed for two nights, which brought the usual downpour an hour before we had to pack up and then a garage filled with wet tents on our return home.  Hannah can't wait to do it again, Pete can't wait to do it again.  Me?  I think I got all this out of my system the first time I was a Cub Scout.

See how tough this camping is?

And while we lounged, Hannah put up the tent.

Looking for alligators.

Chef in the highly convenient (and illegal, in scouting terms) shelter.

Sunset on the lake.

Our Lion (the rank of 5- and 6-yr-old Cubs).

Good morning to the whole motley crew.

A little relaxation before the rest of the Lions arrive.

And here they are!

Off on a hike.  No one lost/eaten.  Success!

Campfire.

Our skit!  A song of my own composition entitled "Mane, tail, teeth and claws..." (with actions).

No alligators, but I did spot this chap.

It's just a nature walk

Ah, the Sunday afternoon walk in the rain, the scourge of every British childhood, when all you wanted was to be curled up by the radiator watching snooker on a black-and-white telly.  But no!  Hannah hated having to go out for these miserable jaunts all through her younger years...which is why she now forces me and Pete to do it at least once a weekend.

Usually it's not raining here in Texas, but it was today, so she insisted on taking a picnic.  We drove to a nearby nature centre and went for a soggy saunter.

OK, I have to concede it is fairly interesting to wander around a forest listening to tree frogs calling to each other.  And we don't have many alligators lurking in the ponds of Somerset.  We don't have bald eagles either, but we have seen them before, along with the buffalo the centre had in a nearby paddock.

I didn't want Hannah to think I might be enjoying myself, so complained that I wouldn't be happy unless I saw an armadillo.  And then we saw an armadillo.  The state animal of Texas!  I cautioned Pete not to scare it, but the little armoured beastie had zero interest in us and scurried and snuffled its way around the woods, digging up grubs, at one point tearing at a fallen tree so much that it fell on its head.  It shook it off and went on its way, because we're tough here in Texas.

I'm not going to admit to Hannah how much fun a walk in the rain was, but I suspect we'll be doing it again next weekend.  They don't show the snooker on TV here anyway.

Wet walk.

Wet woodland.

Gator!

Thankfully this chap was in a glass tank in the nature centre.

And these guys were fenced in.

This guy was not fenced in.

Armadillo!

And off he goes.