Searching for eels. (Eek!)
Playing Pooh Sticks.
Mud, mud, glorious mud.
Can you see any deer in the bush down there? We've seen their tracks.
More mud. (By the time she had finished dinner she had more chocolate from dessert on her face and skirt than she did mud. At least she washes well.)
(She didn't want to leave the mud which apparently is all my fault since I often read We're going on a Bear Hunt to The Most Adorable Granddaughters. Uh-oh, mud. Thick oozy mud. ... We'll have to go through it.)
All good things must come to an end. Returning home ...