Bear-huntin'

In a rare fit of spontaneity, I convinced our family to start our vacation early so we could have an extra day in Asheville visiting the Biltmore House. So we hurried up to finish packing our clothes and Catherine's 17 gazillion stuffed horses, shuffled Genie off to the neighbors', and rode on out of town. Around 10:30 p.m., when the rain was pelting the windshield so hard that we couldn't tell which way the hairpin curve was swinging, I decided I would revert to being boring and predictable. Life is safer that way.

At the Biltmore House - no bears there either.

Finally we checked in to the hotel, unloaded our toothbrushes and jammies, and tucked the kids into bed. But then, just like in our favorite Knuffle Bunny stories, we heard a horrendous wail because...

CATHERINE
                              REALIZED
                                                       SOMETHING.

11:03 p.m.
CATHERINE: "My horsies! My horsies are still in the car!"

ROGER: "I am not going to get your horses."

ME: "You know you will."

ROGER: "Absolutely not. She can sleep without her horses for one night."

ME: "I give it five minutes before you're at the car."

Cue wailing and sobbing as Catherine contemplates a cold, lonely night without her beloved horsies. 

11:05 p.m. 
ROGER: "Oh, fine. I'll go get them."

ME (to Catherine): "I hope you're happy. Daddy will probably get eaten by a bear in the parking lot."

The very next day, I started to wonder if I wasn't a bit prophetic because as we pulled in to the parking lot of our hotel high in the Smokies above Gatlinburg we saw a sign that read: "BEWARE OF BEARS." A big, stuffed, flag-wearing bear greeted us on the porch. And the upbeat owners described how just that morning two teenage bears -- how can you tell a bear is a teenager? Does it talk back? -- wandered through the parking lot. Indeed, our whole trip, it seemed, was filled with near-bear sightings: the cook was surprised by a bear as he gathered blackberries for the fruit compotes, fellow travelers had watched a bear from their balcony while they munched on waffles, the waitress had hosted a mama bear and four cubs in her yard that same day.

Yes despite staking out a raspberry patch and hanging out on our balcony in the early mornings with binoculars hanging from our necks and cameras at the ready, we saw no bears. That didn't stop the kids from rehearsing what they would do should they see one: Vincent would smartly clap his hands to scare them away. Catherine would invite them inside for a berry salad. 

And Dominic? He has a new word. You'll never guess what it is.