I'm not all about camping
When I was in fifth grade…maybe sixth grade…my parents finally caved and took us on the church’s annual Memorial Day camp out. You see we were really not campers. Actually, we had never camped as a family before. My grandparents had bought an old RV more so for travel ease, and we had a tent, but that was about as close as I ever wanted to get. My parents’ church group kept trying to get us to go, but year after year we declined. That is until the fateful year mom finally said yes…and it was miserable. It had rained quite a bit that week, to the sites were all muddy. My dad actually had to work most of the weekend, so my poor mom was pretty much on her own to do all the “grown up” work. My sister ran backwards into a parked car. My brother got his foot stuck in a snake hole. I managed to get a fish hook stuck in my ear. My sister and her friend locked themselves in the bathroom in the rv not once, but twice. It was a nightmare. We tried again at the end of my freshman year, and it was ...