Glamping

Zachary showed me this morning how he learned to cook scrambled eggs while camping with Walter. He pulled out the eggs, butter, and then grabbed a sauce pan- Can I use this?

Uh… no. Get the non-stick skillet, I said.

I watched him crack the eggs and gently stir them.

I told Walter you put milk in them, too.

Yup. Just a little.

He poured a little in with some salt and pepper.

After they were done, he went and got the final touch.

Ketchup, he said. Aunt Cathy taught me to use ketchup on everything.

Everything?

Well, not asparagus or ice cream. That’s nasty.

Zachary loves camping. He loves the dirt, the smells and the stars. He wants me to go camping in the worst way. I hate camping.

I found the kind of camping you’d like, Mom. I saw it on the news. It’s called glamping.

Glamping?

Yeah, it’s like a tent but you walk in and it’s a whole room. There’s a queen-sized bed, dressers- it’s like a regular hotel room.

Hmmm.

And there’s a four star restaurant- you’d love that, mom. French pressed coffee delivered to you in bed.

Yes, I would like that.

They even have a spa.

It’s clear my kids know me and know me well. Even with the butch exterior, they know I need Egyptian cotton sheets and a real bed. A four star restaurant complete with French pressed coffee.

Glamping. I think we found a perfect compromise.