We took 2 of our grandchildren camping
last week. My husband was on vacation and we'd been planning this
for months. It too one postponement and two tries to get it done.
The postponement was because Declan was still recovering from the
flu. We could have set up camp that day – mowing, prepping,
setting the tent, finding out the mountain pie cooker we bought was
structurally deficient for my husband's cooking methods. But, my
husband was on vacation and we painted the office and played video
games instead.
So, on the day of our first attempt at camping, my
husband mowed the clearing and I picked up groceries and the
grandsons. The boys swam the afternoon away, struggling to remember
the temporary “no splashing Granny's new patio and the men working
on it” rule.
With the truck loaded up with the big stuff of
camping – chairs, tents, sleeping bags, air mattresses, coolers,
etc., the boys set off for the clearing and unloaded. The fire was
fed, the tent came out of its box for the first time, air mattresses
were filled, sleeping bag zippers were fought with, and flashlights
were distributed to all.
The sentence, “Don't do that to your
brother” covered a myriad of activities of the 5 & 7 year old
siblings. It was followed with:
- “Don't shine your flashlight in Granny's eyes.”
- "There isn't any electric over here for video games."
- "No, we're not going to have a tornado."
- “Put that flaming stick back in the fire.”
- “Why are you in Granddad’s truck?”
- “Keep your shoes outside the tent.”
- "Don't go in the tent with your shoes on.”
- “Take your shoes off first.”
- and “Yes you can have another cookie.”
At
7:50 I turned to my husband (with a queen sized, half inflated air
mattress draped over my head at the front of his truck where the air
pump was being powered by the battery) and said, “They want to go
swimming. It's really hot out here. Let's order from the pizza shop, let them swim and if they suggest it... let's sleep in the house.
I want air conditioning.”
“What about the mountain pies, the
smores, the campfire?”
“We can do it another night. I'm too
tired to camp.”
So... that's what we did. A couple nights
later, after a threat of thunderstorms had passed and good weather was a sure thing, we camped. The boys and I were tired by 10:30. I told them
stories of all the things we didn't have when I was a girl. The list
and the memories made me feel as though my life started in the dark
ages, but Drake was fascinated. He proudly carried the stories from
one grandparent to the other, revealing that he knew all sorts of new
secret information about these seemingly benign grandparents.
A
short while later, Drake was out of the tent and chatting with
Granddad at the campfire again. His brother followed but was back in
his sleeping bag minutes later. I listened as they talked about
dance moves. Knowing the uncontainable wiggly nature of my grandson
and the unrestrained fun my husband expresses to music, I smiled at
what was going on out at that campfire – just 500 feet from our
house... where “normal” visits over years had not given a tenth
in relationship building as these few days had.
