Last week I got out our ancient pop-up camper and set it up in the backyard, not an easy task for the mechanically disinclined. It was musty and desperately in need of fresh air, but that didn’t deter the kids; they moved in immediately, long before my declared airing-out time was up.
“Phew, it stinks in here!” I said, as I peered in the little door at the four of them happily playing cards and drawing.
“We don’t even smell it,” said Andie, speaking for everyone.
They clearly didn’t. The dank camper air was tempered by tranquility and joy, overflowing to engulf me in its intensity instantly. I listened for a bit and smiled at the polite manner in which they spoke to each other, the tone they use when they’re extraordinarily happy and therefore can afford to be much more patient and forgiving. They played in there that entire day and if there was any fighting going on, I didn’t hear about it (a welcome break).
After I tucked them into their beds in the camper that night*, I walked back to the house and as I often do, I envied them their childish happiness. I was thinking about my upcoming income tax audit and how behind I was on my work. They were in kid-heaven, snuggled together in the camper and chattering over each other. I longed to be a kid again so I could jump in there with them and enjoy the cool summer night and the family camaraderie, no worries attached.
But I’m not a kid anymore, no matter how much I wish I were. And generally, I’m okay with that. The sheer delight that at times like this radiates from my four offspring more than makes up for the adult problems from which I often wish I could flee.
In some ways, it’s sort of like reliving the best parts of childhood again when you have your own children, I reflected, as I walked up the steps to the back door. To share their experiences brings back the delight and awe we felt when we were kids ourselves.
With one last glance at the camper nestled under the trees, I went back to my adult world, knowing that these summer nights will forever stick in their memories as some of the best times of their childhood. All the time and hassle it took me to set the camper up was completely and utterly worth the trouble just to see how thrilled and excited it made them.
This is one tradition we will definitely be keeping.
Summer is full of traditions for most families: Popsicles when it’s hot, spending time at the lake, roasting marshmallows over a campfire, staking a tent in the yard, planting and harvesting the garden… What are your family’s summer traditions?
* For those who don’t know, sleeping in our backyard is not at all dangerous since we live in the middle of nowhere. Literally. We have no visible neighbors, unless you want to count the cows (not ours) who are currently grazing in the pastures adjoining our house and who are incredibly, annoyingly loud. Camping in the backyard is completely safe. It’s one of the perks of living in the country.
