But once I push through those cruxes, the days outside with Kieran are amazing. He cracks jokes, sings songs, scrambles on rocks, makes fun of me while I'm climbing ("Amma, you have a big fat butt! Amma, you're climbing too slow!"). He's more patient than I would ever be, hanging out at the base of a crag while I'm going up and down the rock with friends. up into the Wind Rivers from my back porch, I feel a little pang. What would that llama trip have been like? Would it have been the time of our lives, with sightings of big game ("mega fauna," we call it), fields of wildflowers, refreshing dunks in creeks warmed by the summer sun, philosophical stove side discussions (Why are the llamas eating the grass? Why can't I eat grass? Why?), followed by nighttime readings of Dr. Seuss and family cuddling in our tent? Or, would it have been an epic debacle, with whining and llama poop and demands to go home immediately?
A big butt needs treating much the same way as we do