Look!  Kids are a bit longing for home at the very moment they are writing a letter, or, speaking to you over the phone.  Don’t call them, if yours is one of those sensitive lads who tends to break down when hearing mom or dad’s voice from afar.  Instead, be a bit of a fly on the wall and observe your sons as they really are — most of the time — here at Kingswood.

Last night’s Egg Drop is a classic example of how rapidly boys adapt to their new environment, once left to their own devices — i.e, not micromanaged by you.

The cold front passed through yesterday afternoon and by Egg Drop showtime was air conditioning on steroids.  In truth, that made for an even more spirited rendition of our foolproof homesickness-crushing event.  Indeed, all the eggs eventually get smashed to bits by our aggressive gang of idiots, led by The Ambassador (from nowhere to nowhere.)

The first round is a gentle float to the ground, meant to tease the lads into believing that this will be an easy endeavor after all.  Well, I’ll stop the narration here and let the photos below do the rest of the talking.  Hilly 1 is seen at the end, celebrating the awarding of the coveted “Egg Drop Pitcher,” as evidence that their egg, indeed, was the last to be destroyed in the Pit of Despair.

The last photo shows Bill in his “Temple of Smoke,” preparing brisket for the masses.  That old Hobart dishwasher, adapted, has been a godsend to his operation at the base of the kitchen steps.  All in all, homesickness has been largely conquered.  Huzzahs!