What are kids for, if not to scare the living daylights out of their mothers?
And this seems to have no age limit. Last week I told you about my visit to Las Vegas with eldest son Richie, meeting up with son-who-lives-there Brandon, and Nicole, who came down from Provo, Utah to join us.
But today you will see why many a mother has gray hair. Brandon decided to show us scenic Red Rock Canyon, just a few miles outside Las Vegas. He also brought his Great Dane, Odin, along.
Did I mention that it was approximately 8,000 degrees outside? And no, you couldn’t fry an egg because any creature capable of laying an egg would be dead of heat suffocation. But there we were, determined to see the iron-rich cliffs and rock formations. (We also did not run into official “spokestortoise” Mojave Max, who was probably buried as deeply as he could possibly dig.)
And what was the first thing the boys conspired to do? Climb a cliff IN FLIP FLOPS. Here they are, surely conspiring (Odin is probably an innocent bystander):
Before you could say, “Is it hot or is it just me?” they were scuttling up the sandstone, and then waved from the brink of death:
And, of course, it was only upon leaving that I noticed this sign:
This is the real reason desert life gives you wrinkles.