The Knock at the Door

There was a knock at the front door tonight. I answered it and found Woodie standing there on the step. He looked weary.
"It's about the kids," he said. "They were supposed to come out of that tree no later than yesterday, and they're still in there."
"Why, yes, I've noticed that," I answered. "What's up with that, anyway?"
"Well, I'm not sure. I think it's all this rain lately. They've been sneezing a lot, and one of them has a little patch of mold growing on his head. I think they're waiting for a sunny day."
I laughed. "They'll be waiting a while yet then, I think, seeing as there's a lot more rain coming!"
"That's just it," he sighed. "Look. Here's the thing. Woodina and I are exhausted. It's bug after maggot after larva after berry after bug, and the thing is, we can't help noticing how much time you guys spend just, you know, watching us. In fact, it's been getting a little irritating lately. Every time I look up, your camera's in my face, and there I am with my mouth full of bug."
I was taken aback. "I thought maybe you sort of liked it," I said. "The attention, and the nice photographs of you and the kids. I was planning on having some framed for you to hang in the tree cavity!"
Woodie looked at me. "I had sort of a different idea," he said. "We thought that you and Hugh could start spending some time with the kids...babysitting, food-gathering, that sort of thing. They'd like to get to know you better. And frankly, we need a rest. So, we're thinking you could start this weekend, because we have plans to go camping down the hill with some friends at the creek. What do you say?"