Little Faith I really don’t like camping. I’m more of a soft bed kind of girl. I don’t like bugs, heat, or spiders in the community shower. For years, my husband has taken the kids camping. They love it – burping, farting and not saying excuse me! I love the quiet when they’re gone. At first I couldn’t go, because I had a baby or someone under five years old. My husband’s hard fast rule was: Five and up go camping, anyone else stays home with mom. I was totally fine with this arrangement. They could do all the testosterone induced reveling they liked, and I didn’t have to be a witness. When I was a young kid, the neighbors took me camping. A tornado blew through the area, and we had to flee in the night. I awoke the next morning with a tick attached to my chest. I remember screaming at the mirror. My only camping experience as a child was rather dramatic. When my last child turned five, my husband decided I simply must go along. It was my birthday. It rained t