It wasn't the roller skating - I actually was surprisingly un-sore on Saturday morning, but then I thought that it would be brilliant to go camping with a bunch of eight and nine year olds.
So we all went cub scout camping. And took like 12 hikes. And slept on an air mattress with a slow leak. And told stories about the "evil hotdog" around the campfire.
And then the middle one shared, ever so kindly, her fun croup with her mother, which is apparently laryngitis (oh, Lord, I can't even spell it, much less speak) on the night that I'm supposed to get up in front of a group of people that don't know me and convince them that I'm a fun and fearless leader. Yeah. A leader of frogs.