The Honeymooners

Two. Tents and fake superheoroes

I feel Enzo's tongue on my face and push him away from me, wanting to get as much sleep as I can in a smelly, humid tent. I barely managed to get five hours of sleep last night for the nature sounds. At one o'clock I heard an animal, which I'm pretty sure was a deer sniffing around our tent door. Then at half past two, the barn owls decided it was time to have a conversation with one another, probably discussing what they had for their dinner. Mice, more than likely, which freaked me out to the point of having to cover my head with the blanket. And then now, at God only knows what time, my husband is selfishly prodding me for his male needs, wiping his tongue all over my face like a-

"DOG!" I scream, pushing the black and white beast away from my face, waking Enzo up in the process.

"Keep it down," he moans still half asleep.

I'm glad he can sleep through my trauma. Real glad. "There's a dog in here, and it's been licking my face."

That soon wakes him up. Dogs are his nemesis. "There's a dog?" he responds, grabbing a handful of our clothes and blankets, shoving them over his face and body.

I reach out my arm to shake his side when the dog places its paws on my shoulders, pinning me to the hard ground. "Help me! The big lump is attacking me."

"Monty?" a voice shouts in the distance, causing the hound's ears to prick up. "Monty, here boy."

'BARK, BARK, BARK.'

My poor eardrums pound at the volume of the dog's voice. And then the name Monty is shouted even louder until I hear a rustling. A lady with blonde curly hair shoves her head through the broken tent door, seeing who I'm guessing is Monty holding me down.

"Monty, off now," she shouts, sounding mortified.

I sit up when Monty does as he is told, jumping off me to land on our cooler bag of food, spotting something yummy inside as he delves his snout inside, probably finishing off the last of my mother's sandwiches. I don't stop him, thinking it's one way to get rid of them. We won't eat them now the bread is stale.

"No," the lady shouts diving over me to tackle her dog out of our tent. "I'm so so sorry."

I smile, wiping my face with the corner of my blanket, craving a shower more than anything. "It's okay."

"Is the dog still here, Ambrosia?" Enzo's muffled voice joins in on our conversation.

I pat his side. "No, honey."

In a flash, Enzo is up and out of his sleeping bag, the clothes and blankets catching around his ankles as he comes to Superman pose over my body, landing on my legs with a tired grunt. I go to help him up, but he fights my hands away, covering my body from head to toe with his, in a similar way Monty had minutes ago.

"I'll protect you, sweetheart," he says, keeping my back on the floor and face covered with his lips when he places loving kisses all over the skin.

It's nice having his affection and all, but I'm busting for a wee, and his knee is digging directly into my bladder. It's one of those situations where you were dying to go all night, but couldn't be bothered to find a toilet. Do you do that too, or is it just me?

"Enzo are you attempting something from the Kamasutra?" I say, trying to remove him from my body.

Enzo chuckles in my ear. "No, but if you are offering?"

I manage to get myself up from the floor, letting him roll back onto his side. "I'm all up for experiments on our honeymoon, but on a child-friendly campsite? Not so much."

"No fair," he winks, trying to pull me so we can snuggle. "We're newlyweds."

I pucker my lips near his face to which he takes advantage of my gesture, running his nose along with mine. "Morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep? I was out like a light all night."