This weekend I took Thomas and Arthur camping for our church’s annual Father-Son Campout, held on a beautiful piece of land not far from our home. (John Lloyd, who just turned one, elected to sit this one out.)
Our camping excursions are slowly proceeding deeper and deeper into the wild unknown. Our first outing was in our backyard. Our second – this one – was 10 minutes from home. At this rate we will soon be roughing it deep in the backcountry of the Appalachian Trail. Ok, maybe not, but the boys have quickly become fans of camping. The campout was all they could talk about the week leading up to it.
So Friday afternoon I left work early, and we loaded up and hit the open road, stopping to buy some crickets on the way.
Upon arrival, we put up our tent, and then, we fished.
Arthur, age 3, held the distinction of youngest camper
The crickets at the end of my line weren’t holding up their end of the bargain, so I returned to the tent to blow up air mattresses. A few minutes later Thomas came running up out of breath.
“DAD DAD I CAUGHT A FISH THE CORK WENT UNDER AND I REELED IT IN AND I CAUGHT A FISH.”
Initially I was skeptical that he had, in fact, caught a fish, since he was still figuring out the finer points of casting his rod. But I followed him to the bank, and sure enough, there was a bream lying there, still hooked, no doubt confused about the recent turn of events.
Thomas (green jacket) and a fish
Apparently in the excitement of the moment Thomas had dropped everything and run to the tent, leaving rod, reel, and fish on the bank. I unhooked him and let him go. As the night proceeded Thomas would find a way to work his battle with the great beast into every conversation.
That night we cooked over the campfire, and once it was dark, many of the boys played a game involving running through the woods with flashlights and screaming like invading Huns.
Eventually it was time to put the boys to bed. We got settled in the tent as the battle cries of marauding little boys echoed through the woods around us. Eventually we were able to sleep.
The next morning we did a little more fishing, Thomas and Arthur played in the woods, and after breakfast we packed up and headed home. (It was a one-night campout.)
I hope this is the second of many such excursions.
