On Sunday we took the boys to Stone Mountain Park, our favorite place in all the outdoors. With the possible exception of just outside the carport in front of the burn barrel while drinking beers and tossing back vodka shots.

Where was I? Oh, yeah - Stone Mountain. We had the two boys from next door as well since their adults were off to Taladagua Taluhdagua Tailadaygua Talladega to watch redneck drive-bys NASCAR race. For those of you who don't know parent math, five boys are approximately four times as many as three boys after putting them through the "Outdoor Nature" algorithm and multiplying by the "Peer Impression" conversion factor.

They were suspiciously well behaved. I began to think that I had made an error in my math calculations. Perhaps I'd failed to carry the 1? We went to a classic car show in the fair grounds and the worst they did was an occasional touch of a highly polished muscle machine. I couldn't fault them too much for this as I myself was having a difficult time not rubbing my groin on some of those beauties.

The next stop was a ride on the SkyRider (aka sky-lift) to the top of the mountain. Again, they behaved almost frighteningly well. The only gaff here was Bear(5) walking into a puddle after being specifically told not to walk into a puddle (no extra socks or shoes on hand, otherwise we turn them loose). Maybe we didn't see their typical boyish terrorism up there simply because we didn't have enough time. It was right chilly on the top of the mountain, we had no coats, and the trip was aborted pretty quickly.

We visited the Antebellum plantation next. This place is beautiful. Artfully restored plantation houses, huge lawns and a gorgeous garden. We typically stop in the garden for a snack and a drink and then let the kids romp about. Things were going well along these planned lines. Goldfish crackers were distributed (they're always fresh 'cause we keep eating them), Pringles cans were pop-pop-popped, and Lovely Wife and I were sitting in the wrought iron chairs enjoying the beauty of the garden.

Then I heard a weird noise. It sounded like somebody had turned on a garden hose and was just letting it go into some dirt from a height of a couple of feet. Lovely Wife asked "What's that?" as we both looked around. It didn't take us long to discover the source of the sound. A few feet away was Burger(3) doing an excellent impression of Manneke Pis. I'm talking an excellent impression down to the hand on the hip and the look of rapture on his face.

Lovely Wife burst out laughing and then came near to a cardiac arrest trying to stifle it. I did a little better. I choked out a "What are you doing?!" before gut clenches forced me to be silent or surrender to the belly laughs. Lovely Wife jumped out of her chair and ran the couple feet over to Burger and then ... well, what exactly do you do there? You go sit back down, as Lovely Wife discovered. And try to stop laughing.

When he had finished (and boy did he take his sweet time) and we had recovered to the point where conversation was possible again we explained that in the middle of an open garden in the plantation area of a state park was not a good place to do that. The reason they have bathrooms is so we can use them. When you need to use the toilet, you have to tell us.

It was all a waste of breath. The look on his face clearly stated quite clearly that our outmoded mores were none of his concern and that we should be more than happy that he hadn't simply cut loose in his pants.

Strangely enough the rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully.