I've been stocking up on camping supplies. Once summer officially hits, my plan is to take Lyla camping several times and become at one with the natural world. That, and eat a lot of fire-charred hotdogs.
I do fear that in the end all of this will be for naught and she will hate camping. Then I'll have to rely on Rowan to be my excuse. But what if he hates it too? It's poor form if Dad goes off camping by himself. "Honey, have you seen my whiskey flask? Well, have a good weekend with the kids."
They'll be in daycare this summer on Tuesdays and Fridays, but other than that, it's Dad time. My thought is that Wednesday night camping trips might become a tradition. In addition to all the issues I haven't yet anticipated, Lyla's love of midnight bathroom trips could throw a wrench into everything. You'd have to wake up Rowan, too, and then truck them both off to the latrine, and then get them both back to sleep...not happening. We'd have to bring a portable toilet, the proverbial pot to piss in.
Of course, what I'm already romanticizing is the kids asleep in the tent and me tending the fire. Then breakfast the next morning, probably eggs, and nasty too-strong coffee. Sounds excellent.
No comments:
Post a Comment