On my old blog, I once referred to camping as “Yelling At Kids in Nature(TM).”
Little has changed. There’s still lots of yelling. Mostly THEM yelling while we growl at them to be quiet, a reaction we’re cured of three days in, when we realize that our neighbours are hearing impaired and/or tolerant of loud children and/or both.
One thing that has definitely changed is my impulse to want to catalog and archive everything. This time, there were whole entire days where I didn’t take even a single photo.
Which means that rather than a week’s worth of posts that replay my vacation in near-real time, you get a bunch of random lists so short and scattered you’d think I wrote them on the inside of a dew-dampened Kleenex box.
Which I did. Enjoy.
Random Things I Think Of While Camping (a non-exhaustive list)
- Being a good neighbour may be no more complicated than being generally quiet and occasionally absent.
- I would like to meet the human for which these brownies are honestly two-biters.
Camping vs. Real Life
Camping: Kids are allowed to take off on their bikes. I’m like, “Stay out of the poison ivy! Come back eventually!”
Real Life: Kids’ movements are tracked to within 10 metres or so, lest a nosy neighbour call 55 Division on my apparently negligent self.
Civics Win or Geography Fail?
Filling out a postcard with my five-year-old — by the way, if you have little kids and you do any kind of summer travelling together, you really need to read them See You Next Year — and I was prompting him to help with the address. Now, you should know here that every time there’s a political ad on TV, I point it out to my kids and ask them who the different leaders are, and by now they’re pretty good at identifying them by sight. But sometimes I’m reminded that it’s kind of a weird game with predictably unpredictable results:
Me: What city do we live in, bud?
Me: And what province is Toronto in?
J: Justin Trudeau!
Me: Well …
When You Are Five, Everything Truly Is Awesome
When challenged by his surly younger sister, who declared her intention to “NEVER do ANYthing EVER AGAIN” (emphasis hers), my son calmly pivoted to a response as generous as it was genuine:
I can’t imagine not doing anything ever again. There’s just so many things to do. Watching a tree grow … Just sitting down …
It’s amazing what you can hear when you stop yelling, in other words.