Chris and I haven’t been camping since before the kids. (I mean, assuming you don’t count the two times we set up the tent in our backyard so our oldest could have a night under the stars with dad while I stayed inside with the baby). I’ve always loved camping, especially tent camping. But with little ones it seemed like it would be a lot of work. It’s probably not, but like anything can be intimidating until you’ve gotten the routine down.
This Memorial weekend we pulled the trigger. Even though our version of camping was setting up our tent at an established campsite with running water and bathrooms, located a mere 5 miles from our house, it was a start.
We woke up to the sound of the birds, there were campfires and s’mores, hamburgers over the grill, fishing, a huge game of adults-verus-kids kickball, laughter, outdoor play, and only a small handful of meltdowns.
The kids dug up dinosaur bones in the campground sandbox, scampered on the playground, colored and played house, caught a turtle and tried to catch fish, and rode their bikes until the sun went down. The weather could not have been better: sunny skies, warm but not too warm, and just enough of a breeze to keep away the bugs.
It was — in a word — perfect. I mean, how do you describe something that is at the same time both ordinary and exceptional?
Near sundown on Saturday evening, the campground hosted a Bike Parade for all the kids to participate in. Every participant was given a glow stick, and they rode the short loop around the campground a couple of times. It was the only time I took out my phone all weekend, and thus, the only photos I got. So here it is, in all its small-town, holiday-weekend, nostalgia-inducing glory: the bike parade.
