The next morning, we were up early and doing our
stretches in preparation for the epic battle, soon to be played out on the Beer
Pong table. Knuckles were cracked, apple juice was poured, and blades of grass
were tossed to ascertain the direction and velocity of the prevailing wind.
Charlotte had recovered from the disappointment of her
buddy going home early, and for whatever reason, decided to have a hate on for
her old man.
“I’m gonna crush you at Beer Pong, Dad!” she declared
at the top of her lungs, at 8:00 AM in the morning, much to the amusement of
the Acadian couple camped next to us, who giggled at the arrogant little
half-pint’s confident declaration of war.
With one final argument about who should have the sun
in their eyes, it was game on.
Brows were furrowed with concentration as Charlotte
let fly with the opening shot, which completely missed the pong table, and
struck her father, square between the eyes.
“Hey!” I protested, rubbing my head.
“If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball!” she
giggled, quoting our favourite film.
“Remember the 5 D’s of beer pong: dodge, duck, dip,
dive, and dodge!”
Hahaha, more slap stick than you can shake a stick at.
That’s for sure.
Determined not to let the eight-year-old get into my
head, I decided the best defence was an overwhelming offence.
Having exacted
several stunning spin shots, curving the pong ball into wind on more than one occasion,
I soon had Charlotte guzzling apple juice, which very quickly started tasting
like imminent defeat.
That’s when she gritted her teeth and pulled her Bass
Pro Shop cap tight down over her eyes, her jawline set in immaculate concentration
as she fended off the onslaught from her father’s misspent youth, and eventually
prevailed by firing back with a focused and determined comeback.
Having brought her to the brink of defeat, Charlotte
mustered all her might to reduce me to a single cup of apple juice, only to ruthlessly
deliver the winning shot followed by a couple of air pistols which she fired in
my direction, sealing my inevitable fate.
Victorious, she turned a couple well-rehearsed
cartwheels around the campsite, got acrylic paint all over her clothes (which I’ll
never hear the end of when Michelle comes home), and made it known to all here
were listening nearby that “Kids rule and Dad’s drool!”
Well done, Charlotte. My ego is a little bruised now,
not to mention my forehead, but I’m happy to see you cheering up and having a
good time again.
We fired up the BBQ one last time and celebrated Charlotte’s
glorious win with a hearty breakfast, before breaking camp, and heading off for
another afternoon swim near the entrance to the park.
Summer in Nova Scotia is so precious, so we decided to
enjoy it and milk it for all it’s worth – fun in the sun, at all costs!
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Just like our new Beer Pong rivalry - this Summer
isn’t over yet.
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