Backyard Camping Bust

Do you ever find yourself wanting to share something you love with your children?  I do. Often.

Sometimes it works out well for me.  I love to cook, and both of my girls so far love to help me cook.  They pour, measure, and stir things for me, and of course, they are my best taste testers.  I love to run, and both girls like to either run with me in the jogging stroller, or just run alongside me (for short bursts).  I love to read, and both girls love being read to.

I also love camping.

B.C. (Before Clara) our little family went camping in a state park.  Little Madeline was an excellent sleeper, and could fall asleep at her bedtime so long as she had her favorite stuffed dog.  Seriously, how easy could it get?

Since Clara, we haven’t gone camping, and this evening I got it in my head that the girls and I would go backyard camping.  It sounded perfect:  familiar yard, familiar nighttime sounds, etc.  I could take as many stuffed creatures as they desired.  I could run into the kitchen to make dinner and clean up.

My girls normally go to sleep around 7 or 730, so at about 730 I started our usual nighttime routine.  We stepped inside to brush teeth and use the potty one last time, and then we headed back to the tent for a bedtime story and prayers.  At about 7:50 I told the girls it was time to close their eyes.

After almost an hour and a half of trying to convince the girls that all of the sounds they were hearing were safe and normal, we sadly trudged our way back to the house, and I put the girls to bed.

This was something I suppose I can’t share with my girls just yet.  At least not on my own.  Next time, friends, I will bring in reinforcements.  Bearded reinforcements.

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