Friday, May 14, 2010
I don't know what it is about boys and camping, but for some inexplicable reason they seem to go hand-in-hand quite frequently. Myself, I've never been a fan of camping. I can handle cabin camping, like at Blue Knob. I think I could stand RV camping, but I've never actually tried it. I even can be semi-okay with sleeping under the stars, though in all fairness, the only time I've done that was on Trek, and I'd have fallen asleep just about anywhere at that point. But tent camping is something that I cannot do.
My reasoning for this is understandable: I've had too many bad experiences with tent camping. The extreme Maryland humidity making the inside of the tent rain; the tent pitched on a slanted slope with no stakes; the endless round of bugs parading through the tent flap, whether or not it's closed. Tent camping is something I just cannot handle, and something I refuse to subject my children to in the future.
Now, why this slanderous post? Because Skyler went on the Fathers and Sons campout with his brothers and dad tonight, leaving me to ponder my extreme good fortune - I am a girl. And tent camping is not on my required list of activities. Oh hallelujah.
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