We just returned from our first camping trip of the season, and our first trip ever with dog. I was afraid she'd bark at every squirrelish smell the whole night long. Besides ripping my leash-arm off every time another dog went by (Ooh, over here: friends!), Lily did pretty well. She slept on the bench until the first time I poked my head up. Then she whined and whapped her tail on the cupboards until one of us lifted her onto our bed (like an infant all over again, except for the tail bit).
Saturday was rainy but we were prepared: we'd rented a movie (The Adventures of Tin Tin) to watch on the laptop, and packed lots of drawing paper, books, and games. And cookies. Sunday we hung out at the beach (in our sweatshirts) watching K dig trenches and G chase butterflies. And we sat around the fire making blueberry pie (pie filling in white bread), eggs in a blanket, and of course, s'mores.
Here are a few quotables:
After the post-Ritalin-crazies, during which K and G read Calvin and Hobbes comics aloud and repeated silly phrases over and over, G told me, "I have a great brother - I didn't use to think so, but he is really funny!"
Walking back from brushing our teeth, K sighed, "There's no place I'd rather be." "Not even on an airship?" I asked. He just laughed (because we both know an airship would be way cooler).
As G and I were drawing faces of men with purple Mohawks and one-eyed women in Santa hats, she giggled and exclaimed, "I'm going to remember this forever."
And that, my friends, is why I spend a week packing so I can sleep in an ice-cold, sand-covered 8x15 box, half a mile from the nearest bathroom. It's about being together. All five of us.