I'll Take S'more Anytime

Let me ask you. What is not to love about a big, roiling pot full of these things, all stirred up together:
Heat
Humidity
Fire
A small crowd of people piled on top of each other
A couple hairy animals
Lots and lots of dirt
Some bugs
Gooey stuff

Tell me that does not spell fun! It does! We might not know everything, Peanuts. Like why certain families with shrill-voiced women choose to site next to us out of an empty forest to hammer metal tent stakes and scream at each other in at 1 gosh-darn 30 in the morning, BUT- we do know this. F. U. N.
And so. On a whim we threw some baby and dogs and gear into the car and set up camp. You may not know or believe this. But I love, LOVE to camp. I spent maybe 79% of my childhood (the parts I remember) camping, and a tiny part of me- you know, that quarter-sized patch that doesn't get sucked on by a mosquito- sort of thinks that camping is closer to the way we were all meant to live. Under the stars, singing kumbaya with nature. Unless of course it's cold. In the winter, that tiny part gets gagged and bound with a scarf and a hoodie.
But since it is thickly hot out here, we introduced Little One to the great outdoors. She loved it!
She helped set up camp

And make a fire

She acquainted Herself with the Time-Out Tree

She gulped Her beans and chilis right down

She hiked through the woods, smacked things with sticks, threw some for the dogs, examined leaves and bugs, alerted us to the presence of all rocks larger than a pea, and got totally and thoroughly filthy

Yep. Other than the part where She puked all over the down sleeping bags, She loved it!

We were having so much fun, that we even decided to go totally crazy and let Her walk a little further onto the wild side, and try a piece of a marshmallow. This was rather momentous. Because other than the horrible time She snagged a fingerfull of ice cream, this was Her first ever taste of refined sugar. We showed Her how to put it on a stick and roast it in the fire, all of which She was very enthusiastic about. And then She tasted it! And this is the face of Little One meeting sugar for the first time:

She HATED it. Please mama, She begged. Can't I just eat some more beans?

Poor thing. Someone had to take it off Her hands. And I have to say, our big pot of staying up way past bedtime, waking up and freaking out about the deer tromping around our heads at 3 am, cursing the neighbors at 1 am, and coming home sleepy with 3 loads of smoke-steeped clothing was, altogether, almost too sweet to stand.