Recently, my partner and I decided to take our children on their first tent camping experience. Admittedly, I never envisioned myself camping, primarily due to my irrational fears of extraterrestrial beings and, to a lesser extent, bears. Additionally, the prospect of getting dirty, sleeping on the ground, and navigating to a communal restroom in total darkness at 2 AM was far from appealing.
However, the things we do for our children can be quite extraordinary.
Given that it was fall, I anticipated a cooler night, even in Florida. My strategy was to keep the tent zipped up, hoping that the primitive design of zippers would confuse any potential aliens—akin to how a sundial might baffle us. We packed air mattresses and sturdy flashlights for our late-night bathroom trips, along with our small dog, who could theoretically serve as a distraction in case of an alien or bear encounter.
We selected a campground nestled beside a river and brought along two brand new fishing poles, our minds brimming with the expectation of catching an endless supply of fish. Ignoring the fact that my partner’s fishing knowledge stemmed solely from online videos—he changes car brakes that way, so why should fishing be any different?
Upon arrival, we set up our campsite. Miraculously, we managed to erect the tent with, believe it or not, minimal conflict. Surprisingly, it was even somewhat enjoyable. Then I turned around to see this:
I lost my composure. “What are you doing? Look at your face! You’re absolutely filthy! How is it possible to get that dirty so quickly!?” My reaction unintentionally hurt my daughter’s feelings, revealing my long-standing aversion to dirt that I hadn’t realized I had maintained for roughly two decades.
To remedy the situation, I grabbed the camera and started snapping pictures of her, adopting an overly enthusiastic tone to reassure her. Eventually, I coaxed a smile out of her and apologized. It became clear that if I continued to obsess over dirt, no one would enjoy themselves, as camping inherently involves some level of messiness. In fact, if you’re not getting dirty, you might not be fully engaging in the experience.
While my partner prepared fishing lures, the kids indulged in typically off-limits treats like Sprite and Doritos. We attempted fishing, which led to a rather unpleasant encounter with a pufferfish and a messy ordeal to retrieve our hook. We also engaged in cartwheels by the riverbank and cooked hot dogs over a fire in a heavy iron skillet.
As the evening approached, we prepared to make s’mores only to realize we had forgotten our skewers. After five minutes of bickering over whose fault it was, our son sweetly suggested using sticks instead, highlighting our absurdity. This led to laughter as we searched for suitable twigs. I reflected on how camping serves as a metaphor for life: Embracing the mess is essential for enjoyment.
The s’mores were delightful. We stayed up late, laughing over card games like Go Fish and War, ultimately collapsing onto our two air mattresses in a heap of dirt-covered joy for sleep. Despite the heat that forced us to leave the tent flaps ajar, we survived the night without any extraterrestrial encounters or bear attacks.
Ultimately, our first camping experience was a success. We relished it so much that we have already planned another trip for December. Bring on the dirt.
Summary
In this narrative about a family’s first camping trip, the author reflects on overcoming her aversion to dirt and embracing the messy, joyful aspects of outdoor adventures. The experience served as a reminder that accepting life’s imperfections enhances enjoyment, paralleling the journey of parenting and self-discovery.
Keyphrase
camping with kids
Tags
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