There are three huge tree stumps remaining in the depths of our backyard. They form a perfect triangular "footprint"; and at one time, they supported huge pine trees, shelter for the boys' tent. Is there something psychological keeping us from having them removed? "Yes," I'm sure. Childhood memories, whether our own or gifted us by our children, are so palpably precious!
Brian and Christian had a real tent; huge and protective. Non-threatening at about eighty feet from the house, they loved to camp out in it with their cousins and friends. Well, sort of camp out; maybe for half the night, anyway. My niece Kim used the tent for an occasional, self-inflicted time-out. When she and her sister Vicki would erupt into girlie squabbles in the pool, Kim would go inside, find art supplies in the drawer that still houses them, and retreat to the tent for soothing solitude.
Well, the times they ARE a-changin' (BD). For the grandkids, I've resorted to a pop-up tent, placed right next to the made-up bed in their room. When they sicken of the virtues of this camping concept, it shall be removed to the downstairs playroom. It will serve well as happy diversion in the ever-changing imaginary play that happens in this magical place.
Hey, it's not easy finding solutions to West Nile, lyme ticks, carcinogenic bug sprays, constant and violent lightening storms, and all the other issues this generation is dealing with.
We can't wait for our first round of sleepover g'kids tomorrow night. They are in for a pre-treat before "camping out"; you'll just never guess what it is! If all goes well, I'll report back after the festivities. Kids sure do keep us young at heart.
