Camping with the Mole

'Mommy, how old were you when you went camping for the first time?'
'About three ...Why?'
'Do you know I'll be FIVE in September and you never took me camping??!! And I don't mean camping in the backyard, because that's not real.'

The philosopher in me wanted to ask her more about what exactly is "real" and I figured that the accent was on my taking her, and nowhere else. She didn't want to plan a trip, to talk about it, to convince me of anything. She just wanted out of the house (and the yard, for that matter... Ahem.) And while I can very well understand her fascination for tents, backpacks and the rest of the camping gear, I find it hard to squeeze a short trip in the mountains at the moment. Because it was in the mountains that I went camping until not so long ago.

So what do we do? We improvise!

We go camping by the sea. (And what a lovely idea it proved to be.)

A chance for us all to...
... go about pointlessly, but barefoot.

... play with whatever, except for the toys

... taste the coffee with a special flavor of sand

... read or draw for half a day

... stay up late to see the lanterns and the bonfire on the beach

AND to wake up early the next day for a very good reason

 Oh, yes, let's not forget: the Mole was with us once more.

And on our way back, THE question popped: ' When can we go again camping?'

Soon, I hope.