Last Friday we attempted to take one last camping trip before summer ends. The plan was for me and five (yes, five) boys to head up to our favorite primitive spot on the river, about an hour away. It was a feat in and of itself to survive the trip up there with six of us, the gear and the dog crammed into about 25 square feet. As we turned onto the Forest Service Road you couldn't miss the huge red and yellow signs announcing a burn ban. UGH! It had rained a ton all week and the ground was still quite wet so this caught us by surprise. Trey joined us a few hours later and we unanimously decided that no one wanted to camp without a campfire. We came home unpacked, and crashed around midnight, only to be awakened by what sounded like a huge cat fight. We didn't think anything of it and went back to sleep.

Saturday morning, on his way back from Starbucks (the best part of not camping), Trey saw a huge dead racoon on the side of the road. Turns out it wasn't a cat fight we heard, but a collision of a car and "Rocky". The boys heard him telling me about the mishap and immediately concocted a plan --which you can see below. Is that hilarious or what? Gotta love those middle schoolers.

Sorry about the laugh at your expense, Rocky Racoon. Rest in Peace.

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