I almost messed it all up tonight.
My oldest child is camping with his older cousins and his mimsy and popsy (grandparents). It’s the first time he’ll have slept outside.
I almost packed him up without thinking and took him home for a bath, milk, and books in bed.
Instead, he’ll spend the night eating smores, telling spooky stories and making fart noises (some probably real) with his cousins. They’ll sit by the fire and talk about dinosaurs and Transformers and scary monsters with all manners of dark powers
How dare I almost deny him that?
I took the longer way home tonight, a little bit lost in thought about it and not really sure why.
And then it occurred to me that it was his eager willingness to try something new and different, and maybe even scary.
The kid didn’t even blink.
Am I like that these days? Was I ever? If so, when did that change? And if that’s the case, how could I let that happen?
Tonight, I am grateful for my 3-year-old, teaching me to be brave all over again.
Oh shit, there’s Popsy calling… He’s tired of the tent and wants to come home.
Ah well, maybe next time kid. Maybe next time for all of us.
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