A few weekends ago, my partner and I embarked on our first family camping adventure with the kids. Honestly, I never imagined I’d ever go camping—my fears of aliens and, to a lesser extent, bears, made the idea daunting. Plus, the thought of getting dirty, sleeping on the ground, and trekking to a communal restroom in the dark at 2 AM was unappealing.
Ah, the lengths we go to for our children.
Since it was fall, I figured the night would be cool, even here in sunny Florida. I convinced myself that sleeping in a zipped-up tent would keep the aliens at bay—just like a sundial might baffle us. We packed air mattresses, strong flashlights for those midnight bathroom runs, and our little dog, who could serve as a distraction in case of an alien or bear encounter.
We chose a picturesque campground beside a river, armed with two shiny fishing poles and bubbling excitement about catching an endless supply of fish. My partner’s experience with fishing? Limited to YouTube tutorials—just like how he learned to change brakes. How different could it be, right?
Upon arriving, we set up camp with—believe it or not—barely any bickering. It was surprisingly enjoyable. But then I turned to see this:
I lost it. “What are you doing? Look at your face! You’re covered in dirt! How is it possible to get that filthy so fast!?” Yes, I hurt my little girl’s feelings because I’m overly cautious about dirt, having seemingly avoided it for two decades.
To make amends, I grabbed the camera and snapped pictures of my daughter while speaking in my exaggerated “please don’t cry” voice. Eventually, I coaxed a smile from her and apologized. I realized that if I couldn’t let go of my concerns about dirt, the whole trip would be a washout—after all, camping is meant to be messy. In fact, if you’re not getting dirty, you’re probably missing out on the fun.
While my partner prepared fishing lures, the kids indulged in previously forbidden snacks like Sprite and Doritos. We fished, and a peculiar pufferfish became an unexpected part of our adventure. We even attempted cartwheels in the park by the river. As the dirt piled up on us, we cooked hot dogs for dinner over the fire pit in a trusty cast iron skillet.
As evening approached, we realized we’d forgotten our roasting skewers for s’mores. After a brief quarrel about whose fault it was, our son innocently suggested using sticks instead, reminding us how silly we were being. We ended up laughing as we searched for suitable sticks, and I reflected on how camping mirrors life: if you can’t embrace the chaos, it’s just not enjoyable.
S’mores turned out to be a delicious treat. We stayed up late, giggling over card games like Go Fish and War, then huddled together on our air mattresses, a pile of dirty but happy humans. Despite having to sleep with the tent flaps open because of the heat (seriously, tents do not breathe), to my knowledge, no one was abducted by aliens or attacked by bears that night.
Our inaugural camping trip was such a hit that we’ve already scheduled another one for December. Bring on the dirt!
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In summary, our first camping trip taught us the importance of embracing messiness, letting loose, and enjoying family time. Life is about creating memories, even if it means getting a little dirty along the way.