Last weekend the Pope boys put on our Mountain Man personas and went camping. (I define “Mountain Man” as a guy who has both thumbs at least 10 feet away from an electronic device AND has removed things that make noise from his ears that weren’t there when he was born) It was the annual church Fathers & Sons Campout, which should be called – Fathers Set Up Tents and See Their Sons Sometime the Next Day Campout. There was much burning of stuff, some of which was actual wood. I observed one little guy, who we’ll call BJ, who clearly has a career as a Fireman Trainer Dude and/or Arsonist. Somehow, in all his 5-year-old glory he knew precisely how to stoke the fire so that it would singe anyone standing nearby. This was a much-admired skill, and not necessarily one possessed by all the impressed adults males (me). During the 8 hour long marshmallow roast I marveled that we were so at ease with 3-foot tall people running around millimeters from the fire with flaming, pointed sticks. Nobody would’ve been surprised to see some HOT puncture wounds – but I think most everyone survived.
My own boys avoided me completely and did hyper-complex boy games in the woods like, “Let’s see if we can hit Charlie and/or Jimmy with a rock.” My oldest didn’t even sleep in our tent, choosing the safety of the minivan instead. Which was good because he was a least partially shielded from snoring that, and I’m not making this up, had some of us wondering if Bigfoot was having a family reunion in our campground and was ticked off after having lost the family raffle. As an aside – why women (particularly the Mrs. HTF) marry guys is beyond me… I’m going with pity or some sort of masochism thing….
I will say I had a great time, and I think my boys did too, but I haven’t seen them since we got to the campground…
PS- I suggest you take a quick read at the post from last year’s adventure, as featured on MormonTimes. (yeah, I was pretty geeked about that part…)