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I snuggle down into the blankets and Henri takes his usual spot wrapped around my legs. “Whatever will pass the hours as quickly as possible. I keep telling myself it’s really only one day. Anyone can survive twenty-four hours of something.”

He laughs, pulling me into a safe embrace, which has become a feeling of home for me. Kissing my temple and laying a hand on my growing stomach, I melt into him. “I love you, sparkplug. Get some rest; you’re going to need it.”

It’s not the sunlight, which wakes me up, nor is it the smell of bacon and eggs Casen is cooking for everyone. No, I’m woken up to the smack in the face served by a toddler rolling around in my bed. Olivia must have climbed in and fell asleep after Casen woke up to start breakfast. I was not warned of this by Carly. She failed to mention the tossing and turning as well. Now, the first casualty of the trip can be marked down as my right eye.

I free myself from under her arm and tiptoe out of the room. The living area looks like a bomb has exploded. Sleeping bags and pillows are thrown everywhere, body parts poke out from various pieces of the bedding. While I’m not sure where to walk to not step on anyone, I’m thankful they are asleep. Well, they are asleep until Casen starts jingling a damn triangle like we’re on a cattle drive. “Come and get it,” he hollers. Everyone pops up, wide-eyed and freaked out.

“Have you never heard the phrases, don’t poke the bear and never wake a sleeping baby?” I ask Casen when he walks in the door. I bite my lip trying to rein in the colorful language Brooks mentioned. “Momma bear,” I say pointing to myself. “Sleeping babies,” I add, waving my hands over the kids spread out on the floor.

“Sorry guys, breakfast is ready. We have to get moving while the fish are still biting.” Then he closes the camper door and the kids fall back onto their pillows.

“Come on, guys. If we don’t get up, he’ll be back with that jingling thing again.” My advice is met with groans. Blake even throws his pillow at me. “If you wait too long, he’ll feed all of the food to Henri,” I add, moving over everyone and opening the camper door to go outside. That gets their attention and they begin moving around as I close the door to fill my own plate to start the day.

Thankfully, my morning sickness has passed for the most part and has been replaced by a massive-sized appetite, so when Casen hands me a plate I attack it like a starving person. I’m not at all bashful about the food I may have smeared all over my face because of my slacking table manners. I notice Casen staring at me intently, probably wondering how much food I can actually eat or get on my face.

“In my book, pregnancy gives me a free pass on the use of napkins,” I tell him, digging in for more.

“I said nothing, sparky,” he says in surrender with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking,” I respond between mouthfuls.

Within the hour we manage to get everyone fed, cleaned up, and loaded for fishing. Abby shows up just in time to head to the lake. Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling about her being a part of this weekend. I want her to have fun, I want her to like me, and I don’t want to forget to feed her like I did with the cat. I’m glad our first weekend together will include the other kids to serve as a buffer.

I gather the girls and we select the prime fishing spot while the boys unload the fishing gear and cooler filled with drinks and snacks. Trudging through the grass the quarter mile hike to the lake, I think I heard every excuse possible as to why Emma and Grace could no longer continue. Bugs, poison ivy, snakes—which I banned all further discussion about—dirt on their purses, I heard it all.

“We’re here, girls!” I happily announce when we finally arrive at the fishing spot. “Now do you remember what I told you about the bait?” I ask them as we begin to set up chairs.

“No worms, ask for the good stuff,” Emma repeats from the pep talk I gave during breakfast. I informed them how Casen would try and make them fish with worms, but if they wanted to get a good fish they need to use salmon eggs. I fully intend on coming out ahead on this fishing trip.

The boys join us and begin running the lines on the poles. “What kind of bait does everyone want?” Casen asks and looks to the girls to back up his plan for victory.

“I want to use the worms!” Blake shouts excitedly. I don’t really think he cares if he catches fish, Blake would be happy playing in the wiggly worms. I shake my head at his naivety. Casen lets him stick his hand in the plastic container and his face lights up at the sensation of the worms on his skin. As soon as his worm in on the hook and cast into the water, he moves on to the next pole.

Abby gives me a look of confidence and requests Power bait for her red fishing pole. She takes a seat in a lawn chair and begins practicing casting and reeling it in, over and over again instead of letting the line sit in the water.

Olivia isn’t the slightest bit interested in fishing and has focused her energy on the butterflies in the grass behind us. Thank goodness for the dual leash invention I’ve attached to her and Hendrix. As long as she doesn’t eat any of the bugs, we should be good to go.

Emma and Grace have a different plan in mind. I give them a look and a nod when Casen asks about their lines. “We want the good the stuff,” Emma announces, looking to Grace. They grab their fluffy purses and open them with a devilish smile. “We brought scrambled eggs.”

“We’re going to catch the biggest fish, huh, Jen?” Grace adds as they each pull out handfuls of their breakfast leftovers. Apparently, we had a breakdown in communication or at least a mistranslation.

“You plan on fishing with scrambled eggs, girls? I’ve never heard of that,” Casen inquires as he puts together his own line.

“Jen said you would try and make us use worms, but we aren’t falling for it,” Grace explains with her clean hand securely on her hip to emphasize her point.

“Yeah, we’re going to help Jen win!” Emma says, throwing her hand in the air and then looking for a high-five from me. Playing the middle ground, I give her a gentle tap in the middle of her palm as a reluctant, half-assed high-five. I figure it still counts.

“Oh, really?” Blake interrupts.

“Um, yeah,” Grace responds, throwing as much attitude as her little voice and body can put together.

“How about the loser has to make lunch?” Casen says. “You guys and your scrambled eggs versus us boys and our worms.”

I look back and forth, unsure how to proceed. If we were using salmon eggs against his worms I would totally take the bet, but freakin’ scrambled eggs? Those girls are killing me. If I end up having to cook lunch, our trip may get cut short because of food poisoning. There is no sense in pretending I can cook anything except popcorn; and let’s face it, even that isn’t a sure thing.

Before I can give my opinion on the bet, the girls are jumping up to shake Casen’s hand to accept the challenge. They rush to me and help load up their lines. I pack them as best I can with their eggs and launch their lines into the lake.

“Oh my God! My line is moving,” Abby shouts just as I get everyone settled. She’s jumping up and down, waving her hands around, unsure of what to do with the bobbling pole. I grab it from where it’s wedged on her chair and hand it to her.

“Start reeling it in, hun,” I tell her, helping her to hold the rod. Skipping along the top of the water as the line is brought in, her fish is gorgeous. Huge and slippery, we struggle to get it off the hook and onto the cord we have set up to store the fish we catch, but we accomplish it with gigantic smiles on our faces.

Just as we finish loading up Abby’s line with bait again, our Barbie and Hello Kitty poles baited with scrambled eggs begin to wobble. “We got one, too!” the girls scream.

“Um, since your pole isn’t really doing much, you think you could help for a second?” I ask Casen triumphantly. Surprisingly he hops up and helps Emma with her line.