I hated camping until I experienced it through my kids? eyes
I was never into camping. I went with my family when I was a kid (because I had to), but as I grew, so did my distaste. It?s not that I?m precious or high-maintenance?I can go days without checking a mirror?it?s just that I don?t like to work. And camping is work.
My husband, Dan, is the rough and rugged type. Having been a Boy Scout as a kid, he is the ideal person to be with in the woods should we encounter a wild animal or want a perfectly roasted marshmallow. Before we had kids, I thought camping with him might be kind of romantic. What I didn?t realize was that, for him, camping requires a minimum one-hour canoe ride to get to some remote area in the wilderness, where we hang our food on ropes between trees. You know, so the bears don?t get it. Worst of all, we have to bring our own shovels, if you know what I mean.
I played along for a few summers, but on one trip I was kept up all night by bears going at the food. And while I cried, Dan simply snored. The next morning, I paid the guy two tents over in bacon to get us back to the mainland in his pontoon, towing our canoe. For a while, the camping trips stopped. But then we had kids.
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