He survived.

Coming into the bay (he's the blondie in the blue and yellow vest)

My cutie McCutiepants arrived safely home yesterday. He had perma-grin for at least an hour, maybe more, until he remembered that he's an adolescent, and has to be sullen and put-out. They camped both nights on the uninhabited James Island, and apparently all the kids had free reign of the island, a la Lord of the Flies. I'm pretty much positive there was no teeth brushing, let alone Purelling of hands, but I'm willing to just let go of that. The rest of the family is mostly happy to have him home because they no longer had to listen to me saying things like, "I wonder what Jackie is doing. Do you think he's cold (or hungry, wet, lonely, etc.)?"

We spent most of the weekend painting. One coat of primer, three coats of REDREDRED in the tv room. It's a good thing we don't work on projects together too often, because I'm not sure our marriage could take it, and that's all I'm sayin' about that.

We also discovered that all six of us enjoy buffalo burgers last night, as Gary and Bernetta had us all over for dinner and mojitos. But not the kids, of course. No mojitos for them. They did get to bury a dead bird, which appeared to have been the highlight of the weekend for Henry.