This is all it takes to be a hero evidently

By Sarah

We won’t be taking a holiday this summer. But one Saturday, my husband, Brian, decided to take the tinies camping anyway.

In our backyard.

He dug out our camping gear which includes a camping stove we bought on clearance at the outlets, sleeping bags, provisions and the tent we borrowed-but-never-gave-back from his parents. (Hi, Ed! Hi, Leona! Thanks for the tent!) The tinies were absolutely vibrating with excitement. Anne (4 years old), in particular, since she was the one who could stay out all night long (Not-quite-two Joe was running a temperature so Mean Ol’ Mum decreed that he had to properly sleep inside when bedtime rolled around).

They packed up the cooler and we all roasted hot dogs on the camping stove, balancing our camping dishes on our laps. The boys ran around with their shirts off, referring to themselves as “Mountain Men” (never mind that we were still in the neighbourhood with only a hill behind the house – those are simply details).

They are allfarmer tans and bug bites and scraped knees and big smiles. They smell like sunscreen. Anne was so happy. “Daddy, I’m learning so much about camping!”

Then, when the night started to fade, Joseph and I went back inside. Anne had made it clear to me that this was her thing with her Dad so I took the hint. They sat outside and read her favourite stories. When it got dark, Brian made up stories about being a “good pirate” and saving kids and doing good. Then they played flashlight tag. He roasted marshmallows for them on the camping stove, introducing her to her very first s’more. They watched for our trio of owls to make an appearance.

It was 10 o’clock before she fell asleep, 2 hours past bedtime, on the air mattress beside her dad, snuggled into my sleeping bag that had been airing out all afternoon. Brian said she kept burrowing in all night long, going further and further. He woke up at 3 in the morning and couldn’t see her. He panicked for a minute and then he opened the sleeping bag. She had stuffed herself right into the bottom of it and was sound asleep, toasty warm. He hauled her back to the air. They were up with the dawn.

They trooped inside at 7 AM, Brian complaining of camping coffee.

All morning, she was curled under his arm, gazing up at him with grateful, hero-worship eyes.

Of course, her eyes were also shadowed from lack of sleep but that’s easily remedied. More easily remedied than a lack of happy memories with just-a-girl-and-her-dad.

Later that morning, while we scrubbed the house and did the laundry and got ready for another busy week, he informed me, quite seriously, that the tinies are not allowed to get married and leave him.

Ever.

Seriously.

Ever.

Sarah blogs at Emerging Mummy.