“You want to what?!” I asked Wolf in horror.
Apparently, my husband hates me.
Or wants a divorce.
Or has a death wish.
Or all of the above.
He came up to me, grinning like a maniac, eyes sparkling, and said, “Hey, Honey! How about we leave all the comforts of home, take all the gear needed for five kids, and go sleep in a nylon sack nailed to the ground? You could try to keep them all alive with none of the usual fancy things, like electricity, walls, or plumbing! Doesn’t that sound great?”
Ok, so what he actually said was, “Hey, Honey! Should we take the kids camping this summer?”
If the Look Of Death didn’t actually singe his nose hairs, it was a close thing.
I’m not the outdoors type. I like walls. I like a roof. I like plumbing. The idea of hanging my butt over a log to pee is not appealing. My idea of ‘roughing it’ is a hotel where room service quits ten minutes before I get the munchies.
And seriously, we have two children under the age of three. We’d need to rent a trailer just for the baby gear for the weekend. Add in a vat of sunscreen, another of bug spray, and oh, gee, gear for everyone else, and I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
Terror Toddler, camping. The mind reels. We’d need to tie a rope to the child’s ankle, and the other end to a tree, just to ensure that he didn’t end up like Tarzan. Except, of course, we’re in Canada, so he’d be raised by bears. Or eaten. Then again, knowing Terror Toddler, he’d probably take over. Poor bears wouldn’t have a chance.
And Cubby, the barely one year old. I struggle enough keeping him from putting inedible objects in his mouth at home. I can’t begin to imagine what I might find in his diapers after a camping trip. Wolf assures me that bugs are protein and edible, but I’m a bit too much of a helicopter parent in that regard, and prefer that my kids eat food that doesn’t wiggle on the way down. Picky, picky me.
Trying to imagine Diva (15), Tazzie (9) and Princess (7) in a tent. I suspect that Terror Toddler wouldn’t be the only one tied to a tree, but knowing the girls, Tazzie would probably be upside down. And duct taped.
Then again, camping would get Diva away from the laptop. Fresh air, vitamin D for everyone. And roasted marshmallows. S’mores. The scent of wood smoke.
Babies who already don’t sleep through the night howling in a tent.
Yeah, no. I’m staying put. We have a portable fire-pit for the back yard, I can roast marshmallows there.
I think sending Wolf off into the woods with the older three Minions would be a wonderful idea, though.
If nothing else, it would cure him of suggesting camping again for another couple of years.