This past week, my kids attended a science day camp put on by the Prince William Sound Science Center. I was enlisted to be a canoeist on Wednesday, the first time I’d canoed since…um…ever? It was an easy trip, and while fun, too uneventful to be blog-worthy : )

On Thursday night, I was also one of three adults who stayed in a cabin with the 16 kids. Yeah. LOTS of controlled chaos when there wasn’t a planned activity. But the kids were well behaved, got along, and generally made the task of keeping an eye on them quite easy. Again, nothing really blog-worthy comes to mind.

Then we settled in for the night and began reading stories. The councilor kept them humorous rather than scary, as she didn’t want anyone waking up in the middle of the night with nightmares. I appreciated it, since my youngest is in the “Everything that I hear about is real!!!” stage of her grand imagination. But one story made me chuckle. I’m going to retell it here with a slight modification provided by my oldest. I don’t know who the author is, but I do appreciate their sense of humor. Here it goes:

A hiker became lost in the mountains and wandered for days and days. On the brink of exhaustion and weak from hunger, he came upon a small village. There, he found an inn. The proprietor took him in and fed him the specialty of the house.

“These are the best fish and chips I’ve ever tasted,” said the hiker. “How do you make them?”

“They are from the monastery down near the river,” said the innkeeper. “If you like them so much, you should tell them on your way back to the city.”

“I’ll do that,” said the hiker.

After he was rested and fed, the hiker made his way to the monastery. He knocked on the door and an old monk in rough-spun robes answered.

“Yes, my son?” he asked.

“I just came from the village. The proprietor at the inn said the meal I ate was made here.” The hiker grinned. “Are you the fish friar?”

“No,” said the older man, “I’m the chip monk.”

OK, so it made a bunch of 8-11 year-olds and 3 tired adults chuckle.