Barging Into A Party

Finally got the Molzer Dolzer out to Canyon Lake, along with Roger, Sylvia and clan DiGiorgio.  Bella drove, Gabe drove, then when Molly took over at the helm, it was the Exxon Valdez revisited.  Ok, j/k.  When Bella was at the wheel, she didn't want my hands anywhere near the controls, and would sweep my meandering mitts away with an imperious gesture of disdain. 

As retribution for some unremembered transgression, Molly gave Snoot Flutes aka Nose Whistles to her windy sister and the Gabe.  Like it's not noisy enough around those two. 

We beached the barge for an hour or two, the kids played on the beach, Joe and Kris cooked the brats, the two grandmothers in attendance hovered, clucking over the children playing on the beach, admonishing them not to throw sand, not to go in farther, not to sit down in the water, not to run, not to go over that direction, etc. etc. I keep murmuring in Gabe's ear, "You're not the boss of me; you're not the boss of me."  Instead of using it as I hoped, on his grandmother, he turned triumphantly to his mother and shouted it out.  Shawnee's icy stare and pursed lips made it clear who is the boss of me.