The son is a camping convert.
Well, perhaps not so much a convert as a fairly recent fan. After all, we were never a family to fill the cooler or pitch a tent. We were more inclined to go places that had indoor swimming pools, television sets and complimentary shampoo.
But then the son became enamoured with a gal who has camping in her blood. Bingo. He became smitten with the gal and completely hooked on camping.
Of late, he’s been trying to lure us on board.
“We should all go camping together this summer,” he suggested the other day. “It’s so much fun. You would love it.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced.
Sure, I like looking at stars. But I also like soaker tubs and microwaves.
Sure, I like campfires. But I also like the fireplace.
The son assured me he had everything we’d need. A Coleman stove. A lantern. A tent. A tarp.
“A tarp?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “In case it rains.”
“Oh,” I said.
He and the gal pal also had all the cooking gear we’d need. And they had sleeping bags. And folding chairs. And flashlights.
“Flashlights?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “In case you need to make your way to the washroom after dark.”
Oh, I thought. That sounds like fun.
But when you go camping, I asked the son, don’t you risk running into wildlife? Especially when you’re walking to the loo late at night?
“Maybe,” said the son. “What’s wrong with wildlife?”
“It’s WILD!” I said. “That’s why they call it wildlife! It’s not called tame life!”
The son did not seem terribly concerned, but suggested I might want to bring along some bear spray if it made me feel better.
“Oh, and bug repellent,” he added. “You’ll want to bring some of that.”
Oh, I thought. That also sounds like fun.
“You know me,” I said. “I’m a bug magnet! I’ll get eaten alive.”
“Not likely if you have bug repellent,” said the son. “And not if you wear clothing that covers your arms and legs.”
What a blast, I thought. A full-on suit of armour in the middle of summer.
I was beginning to wonder where the fun part came in.
“Well,” said the son. “It’s fun to sit around and play cards on the picnic table. It’s fun to hike around the campsite. It’s fun to roast marshmallows.”
OK, I said to the son, we’d go camping with them, but perhaps not for a bit.
I need to wait until there’s a foolproof bug spray on the market. Something like that could take years.
