The first morning I could hear the children were awake very early and chattering away to each other. When they came inside, they asked if they could sleep in the tent that (Sunday) night as well. They did.
All should have been well, but this night a strong windstorm came up in the night and I awoke at 1.30 am (I checked the bedside clock) and heard the most awful crying under my window. Fumbling to get into my gown and slippers, I looked out of the window and saw two little children with their arms around each other and wailing fit to bust!
I ran to the entertainment centre door and wrenched it open. The two children looked up, still sobbing and my granddaughter asked accusingly "Gran, WHY did you lock the door?" By now my befuddled-with-sleep dil had joined me in the doorway and together we gathered the children up and carried them indoors to bed.
When I asked my granddaughter this morning, why she had woken up, she said she thought there was a storm brewing. So I asked how her little brother (who is able to sleep through anything) woke up, she said: "I woke him!"
The clouds looked a little stormy again last night, so when we asked the children if they were going to sleep out in the tent again, granddaughter said: "I think our camping days are over."
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