As Close As We're Gonna Get

From time to time, Andrew will ask me when we are going camping or begin a sentence with "When Dad takes us camping..." It started a couple years ago when he saw an episode of Curious George in which they all go camping. Clearly this "family camping" idea comes from TV because certainly Steve and I have not ever mentioned it. And it's so pitiful when poor Andrew brings it up because, y'all (I'm from Ohio...can I say "y'all"? probably not...) I feel terrible, but Andrew has a better chance of seeing pigs fly than having his parents take him camping. He could not have struck out worse in the Parents Who Will Take You Camping lottery than to get stuck with both me and Steve. You want to see the Grand Canyon, Andrew? We'll take you. Go to the museum? Got it. Sporting events? Check. Ceiling Fan Convention? We'll do it. As long as there's a nearby hotel, Steve and I are game. But sleeping in a tent? On the ground? Eating beans out of a can? Outdoors? There is pretty much no form of camping that either of us can get on board with.

One of the draws of camping, in Andrew's mind, is the smores. (Smores? S'mores? I think I've seen it both ways...) And who can blame him? It really is the only good thing about camping that I can come up with. Roasted marshmallows, graham crackers, Hershey bars...mmmmmm. Why doesn't the Hampton Inn start serving them, anyway? Well, my brilliant husband came up with the idea of roasting marshmallows in our backyard over the grill and making smores for the kids. (And the parents.) So we invited our friends Emily, Connor, and Noah over for dinner and smores tonight. Good times with good friends! And hopefully, this will hold off any more of that crazy "camping talk" for a while...at least until Andrew is old enough to join the Boy Scouts.

Libby riding her "ATV" on the "trail"

Gathered 'round the old campfire eating smores...

Hey! Hey! I want some smores, too!