This past Friday our church held a campout for all fathers and sons. Reid, who is five, was really excited to go.
It has been awhile since Reid has gone camping. When Reid was three we took him on a camping trip with some friends, but the heat, cracking, and popping of the campfire frightened him and we finally found him locked in the car and hiding--poor little guy!
How times have changed! Apparently between the ages of three and five, Reid's Y chromosome has kicked in with a vengeance and he is as much of a pyromaniac as the other boys his age. Most of the boys at the campout were around Reid's age, between four and eight years old. The big excitement of the night was watching these boys try to roast marshmallows over the campfire to make s’mores.
The boys all had sticks or metal skewers and it was both amazing and terrifying to watch this young tribe at work. Some of the boys just enjoyed watching the marshmallows and whatever else they could put in the fire burn. Others would swing their skewers around like they were trying out for the high school fencing team. I almost ended up on the business end of a few skewers trying to add wood to the fire. I'm glad no one came home with an eye patch! I'm also proud to report that the only injury sustained was a small burn blister on one of the boy's hand. Nice work dads!
It is for this reason that mother's aren't invited to these types of campouts. I can't think of any mother that could let their son play with red hot skewers in front of a raging fire, let their son eat his weight in molten marshmallow and at the same time carry on a meaningful conversation about the NBA playoffs and why coach so and so is an idiot! Nope, this is where dads excel!
I don't know how many s’mores Reid ate, but if Guinness had been there recording the event he may have been published. He was covered in sticky melted marshmallow, on his hands, face, and shirt, everywhere! Reid then decided to go run and play with his friends in the dark. I heard him trip over a root and found him lying in the dirt. I picked up Reid; at least I thought it was Reid, who was covered with dirt, wood chips, bark, and leaves which had chemically bonded with the marshmallow. Lucky for me Rochelle had packed a box of baby wipes, it only took about 20 wipes to find my son under the black mess.
Reid had a great time on the campout and wants to go again next weekend. He told me "Dad, sometimes it is just nice to get away from the girls!" We are a little outnumbered in our home, so it was nice to have some male bonding time. I also think he is at home in the woods, where we don't have to worry about climbing on things, throwing blunt objects, or peeing in a toilet.
