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Holt
“Dad, you can go now,” Spencer said.
I chuckled as I set a big bag of giant marshmallows on my parents’ kitchen table.
“Am I cramping your style, bud?” I asked my son.
“No, it’s just...the campout is starting. Grandpa has the tents all set up and the other kids are on their way.”
“And Grandma has some cookies fresh out of the oven!”
My mom presented a platter of monster cookies, my kids taking one in each hand. I grabbed one, too, saying, “Thanks, Mom.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” my kids echoed.
“I see a kid!” Spencer cried. “Bye Dad!”
He and Marley ran out the back door of my parents’ house to their fenced-in backyard, where a few neighbor kids had just walked through the gate with sleeping bags in hand.
My parents had planned a “campout” for Spencer, Marley and the neighbor kids they liked to play with when they visited. Dad had set up three tents and built a bonfire for later.
“They didn’t get to sleep until after eleven last night because they were so excited about this,” I said.
“We’re excited, too,” Mom said. “We missed out on doing things like this when they were younger.”
“You might be less excited when you have kids running in and out of the house at two a.m.”
She waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’m making pancakes, sausage and eggs around nine in the morning if you want to come by for breakfast.”
“Yeah, I might.” I looked at my phone to see if Grady had texted me back about our plans tonight.
“You better not be working this afternoon,” she scolded. “It’s Svensday.”
On Wednesdays in Sven’s Beard, most everyone knocked off work late morning, and it was considered unacceptable to be working after noon unless you worked at the hospital or some other essential job.
“I’m just going to check out the progress on my house and the arena,” I said.
“The arena is work! You need to go fishing or kayaking this afternoon. Svensdays are for feeding your soul.”
No matter how old I got, my mom would never stop thinking she knew better than me. Since moving back, I’d started to learn that arguing was futile. Placating her made things a lot easier.
“That sounds nice,” I said.
The timer on her oven sounded and she put on oven-safe gloves. “Take some cookies with you. Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
“No, I’m good, Mom. Thanks for doing this campout for the kids.”
“It’s our pleasure.”
She pulled out another sheet of cookies and gave me a stern look as I snagged another cookie from the platter.
“Don’t embarrass your father and me by working on Svensdays, Holt. We care about the traditions in our town.”
I gave her a wry smile. “I’ll try not to be an embarrassment.”
“We’re thrilled for your success, but this is a town of proud people who would do anything for their neighbors, and they expect our town to be respected.”
I’d just seen the house and arena yesterday, so they hadn’t changed much. My parents had done a lot for me, and my mom wasn’t asking for much, really. An afternoon to myself to relax while they took care of my kids? I could handle that.
