It is too early to predict realistic events.

Tomorrow, we camp. I envision this scene:

"Baum, will you hand me a marshmallow, please? That would be ever so thoughtful." I ask her sweetly. A smile spreads across my angelic face.

An instant later, we hear a bang. Where Baumgal once was sitting is now a swirling mass of smoke and sparkles. Out of the chaos rises a falcon. It screeches in a fowly dialect, "I am Baumgal, and I am free!"

Jodi, Lindsay, and I watch, speechless, as the bird flaps its wings above the pine trees and soars toward the setting sun beyond Bellingham Bay.

Hahahahaha. Just kidding. I'm practicing the fiction unit. This is the "developing stage." Note the overload of prepositional phrases.

But we really are camping tomorrow.