Camping

We tried something new this weekend with Jasmine. We decided to have a camping trip, a feat we had not accomplished since our daughter had been born.

It was great to be back in the wild and enjoy the addictive feeling of freedom that comes with camping. We were proud to see how quickly we put up the tent. The first day of camping experience had kept Jasmine occupied. With few toys and limited access to the mobile phone, my daughter learned to find fun in everything around. Sand, sea shells, sticks were good enough to create an ice-cream. She even picked leaves to cover the cow dung, and a swell of laughter - hers - followed. Having spent a day of imaginative games, she got tired.

The clock's hour hand had long crossed eight, and my daughter felt her eyelids grow heavy. Everything turned dark in the countryside after the sun went down. I imagined that Jasmine would be snoring soon after snuggling down happily inside the tent. What I hadn't realised was that she might not be ready for the darkness in the wild.

"I want to go home," she whispered first and then repeated the sentence aloud. Tears followed. So we were telling her it's too late to catch the boat home, and I was starting to wonder if it was all worth it.

I'd tried to calm her down a couple times, but she was not having it, not one bit, not with the darkness outside her comfort zone, the cold outdoor camp, and her longing for sweet bedroom at home. We walked around and watched hundreds of stars lighting up the sky. She became fascinated, got quiet, listened, and forgot about the darkness. Then, half an hour later, when it was dinner time, she asked to count the stars with us. So we went ahead, amazed at the starry night.

"Good enough, and let's go home," Jasmine told me after we'd said good night to the stars.

"Go home? Now?"

"I mean the tent," she quipped with a smile.