I camped in the backyard last night with the boys for the first time. We had a little fire (in a Weber Smokey Joe) to roast hotdogs and marshmallows for s'mores. The guys had a lot of fun; Andrew told us ghost stories. When he ran out of ghost stories, he started reciting poems. In both cases, the spirit was willing but the recollection was weak. We even survived a heavy squall that passed (thanks, Doug, for the great tent.) I also learned the value of a sleeping pad (which we did not have).

Finally, it's clear that I've learned from years of parenting. Andrew stepped out in the middle of the night to pee. Right before he started, I had the foresight to yell "not on the tent" and heard feet shuffling. Whew.