A couple of weekends ago, my partner and I decided to take our kids on their first camping adventure. Honestly, I never envisioned myself going camping—primarily due to my irrational fear of aliens and, to a lesser extent, bears. Plus, the thought of getting dirty, sleeping on the ground, and navigating to a communal restroom in pitch darkness at 2 a.m. didn’t exactly excite me.
But oh, how we bend for our little ones!
Since it was fall, I figured it might be cool enough, even in our sunny Florida. I convinced myself that we could zip the tent up tight, and that maybe the aliens would be baffled by the technology of zippers—like how a sundial would confuse us. We packed air mattresses and bright flashlights for those late-night restroom runs, as well as our small dog, who, let’s be honest, could serve as a distraction in case of an alien or bear encounter.
We chose a campground by the river and brought along two shiny, new fishing rods, our heads full of dreams of catching an uncountable number of fish. My partner’s fishing expertise, however, extended only to YouTube videos—he fixed the brakes that way, so surely fishing couldn’t be much different, right?
Upon arriving at our campsite, we surprisingly managed to set up the tent with—I can hardly believe I’m writing this—barely any bickering. It was actually kind of enjoyable. And then I turned around and saw this:
“What are you doing? Look at your face! You’re covered in dirt! How is it possible to get that dirty so quickly?” I blurted out, unintentionally hurting my daughter’s feelings. Clearly, I had avoided dirt for far too long.
To make amends, I grabbed my camera and began taking pictures of my daughter, using my overly cheerful “please don’t cry” voice. Eventually, I coaxed a smile from her, and I apologized. It hit me then: if I couldn’t let go of my dirt phobia, no one would have any fun. After all, camping is all about being a little messy. In fact, if you’re not getting dirty, are you even doing it right?
While my partner worked on preparing fishing lures, the kids indulged in normally off-limits treats like Sprite and Doritos. We fished, encountered a gross pufferfish, and had a bloody escapade getting the hook out. We even did cartwheels by the river before cooking hot dogs over a fire in an iron skillet.
The dirtiness escalated. When it was time for s’mores, we discovered we’d left both sets of skewers at home. We bickered for five minutes about whose fault it was until our son, in his sweet innocence, suggested using sticks instead. It made us realize how ridiculous we were being, and we ended up laughing while searching for suitable sticks. I began to see camping as a metaphor for life: if you can’t embrace the chaos, you’re missing out on the fun.
The s’mores were delightful. We stayed up late playing card games like Go Fish and War, finally collapsing into a pile of filthy bodies for sleep. Despite having to leave the tent flaps open due to the heat (tents are not exactly breathable), I’m happy to report that no aliens probed us, nor did any bears attack that night.
Our first camping trip turned out to be a success. In fact, we enjoyed it so much that we’ve already made plans for another one in December. Bring on the dirt!
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Summary:
Jessica shares her family’s first camping experience, reflecting on the importance of embracing messiness and adventure in parenting. Despite initial apprehensions about dirt and discomfort, they find joy in the chaos of camping, leading to plans for future trips.
Keyphrase: camping with kids
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