Camping...

...as close as Henry has come to it anyway. After spending all week talking about it, we "camped" in the back yard on Saturday night. Diane and Henry went to the library and birthday present shopping in the morning and Eleanor was asleep, so I pitched the tent and dug what is sure to be an illegal backyard fire pit. For the rest of the afternoon, Henry kept running back to see if 'the fire was on yet.' After nap, they went to get marshmallows and a new flashlight. And then... just as soon as we could get Eleanor to sleep, we were off to whatever wild adventures awaited us five feet from our back door.

Henry actually did really well about not getting too close to the fire. We talked a lot about how bad it would be to burn our hands...and it worked. He decided he would rather not burn his hands and stayed away. It didn't stop him from throwing every stick he could find into it all night, but I couldn't blame him. I always wanted to (and still do, obviously).

Then we roasted marshmallows, which he ate about half of one before losing interest. Then he and Diane got into the tent and read his new library books by flashlight. Then he and
I got our pillows and our sleeping bags and got ready for bed. He told his usual funny bedtime stories and then started talking about how awake he was. He was not tired at all. After the third mention, I asked if he wanted to go sleep inside. He immediately agreed. That ended our first camping trip. We both fell asleep in his tiny bed until Diane came to get me about an hour later.

First fire

Keeper of the tent door

No photos.