The Family (torture) Picnic

Every few months I put my foot down and require that we all go on a "family picnic." This usually requires a time committment of about 4-5 hours, that includes the commute. We pack a light lunch, drive to a park, eat, walk for an hour or so, and drive home. You'd think I was taking the boys to Gitmo. They whine, they complain, they sulk, but they go. And somewhere about halfway to the park they start to turn. The whines become more teasing, the sulking becomes more of an act. After the meal they trudge dutifully down a path, then spot a deer or chipmunk, or hear a woodpecker and search the trees. Gradually they let down their guard and seem to enjoy themselves. Of course all the way home I hear again about the torture I've inflicted (and usually they bring up any other recent events to bolster their argument that my goal in life is to make them miserable.) But the evenings after these trips are always a little more friendly and calm. The extra exercise and fresh air has done everyone good, including me.