The last three-day weekend of the year was spent at a nearby campground. So nearby that we could run home and grab whatever hadn't been packed into the camper. I know I ran back to grab the puppy's chain, baseball gloves that had been left in the backyard, and a few other odd items we just couldn't live without. At the campground itself we had football, ice cream, swimming, and campfires. We only took the kids to the pond on Saturday, though, because none of us moms were all that impressed with the beach. It was nasty on the toes, if you know what I mean. Slimy. Of course, that didn't stop the kids from having a blast. When the kids weren't swimming, they were either riding their bikes or playing touch football with their dads. I don't know how the dads could stand the heat, but they managed. The only problem being that my hubby thinks he broke his toe -- open-toed sandals are not condusive to football, not even two-handed touch football! Of course, camping is