Wild Men

The campers are home and just in time! I morphed into a Workaholic Cyclone with wheezy lungs, going from room to room, decluttering, straightening and organizing. When Little Squirt is home, I live the life of a Phlegmatic 8yo. But while he was away, I took advantage of the Squirt-Less time to engage in Project Home Reorg. It was, thankfully, a mad success, and I’m grateful to my daily protein shakes for the energy boots. But my asthma was kicking in full-steam by the end of the weekend from all the dust.

My guys had a wonderful time, and I am so grateful for the opportunity they had to get away to the beautiful wilderness, have some daddy/son bonding time, and engage in real manly activities. Little Squirt generally lives a quiet life in the suburbs, where “roughing it” means walking to the park as opposed to biking. He plays soccer, video games, and a has a myriad of safe, scheduled activities. Rarely does he get to let loose, get dirty, and channel his inner Wild Man.

That’s one of the many things that makes this camp so special. There was a whole lotta Man-Wilding going on. My son and his dad got covered in mud from head to toe while catching crayfish and frogs in the rain. They canoed, climbed a rock wall, shot bows and arrows and BB guns. They made s’mores by a camp fire, hike through the woods, and slept in a cabin. I’m quite sure not a lot of teeth-brushing went on! It was all fun and naturey and boyish from start to finish. I’m not sexist, and I have many women friends that love to camp and adventure and climb walls. Good for them! It’s just not me. I’m a Girly Girl who loves a daily shower and a regular pedicture and eating lovely shushi at the mall. So I am beyond grateful that Little Squirt has a daddy who will take him to camp and love on him and indulge his every boy scout-ish whim for a few days.

(But why in the name of all that is Holy was my baby allowed to ride solo in a kayak? On a river?? This wasn’t Disney World, for Pete’s sake!! Oy.)