Little did my husband know when he walked in from work tonight that his heart would stop momentarily. A few words from me, and his eyes opened as wide as saucers, "the vein" popped out of the side of his head, and his mouth formed into a massive oval. I told him that we were going to Family Camp with our church in May. Once he discovered that tigers do not live in Ohio, our son, Eli, has been begging to go camping. But, my husband equates camping with having his eyes stabbed with hot pokers and has managed to redirect Eli's attentions to "more appropriate" (i. e., desirable for dad) activities. There's no getting out of it this time.
To be fair, I must tell you that my husband's hatred of camping does NOT stem from a lack of physical abilities or stamina. I've often told my husband that he should audition for "Survivor." After all, he is supremely athletic, good at puzzles, and he keeps to himself, enough so that people would want him in an alliance. Plus, we could really use a million bucks. Then he reminds me of his addiction to toothpaste, soap, and a hot shower. He'd be the first to tell you that the outdoors aren't really his "thing." I'm pretty sure the closest he's been to "roughing it" since we've been together is when I've escaped for the occasional Girls' Weekend and he's been left to fend for himself with the two Traber animals. And, that did not involve bugs, tents, or latrines.
Here's just one more reason why I love my husband--he is a good sport. He will go to Family Camp in May, and he won't complain. He will participate in each and every activity that Eli wants to. He'll pound a few hot dogs under the stars, roast a handful of marshmallows, and sing songs 'round the campfire. He'll swat at the swarms of mosquitoes that Ohio lovingly has to offer, and he may forego his shower if the facilities are not private enough. And, he'll do it all with a smile on his face. Not because he is enjoying himself, but because he knows his children are. That's how I know I'm one lucky woman.
Family Camp, here come the Trabers.