We have one essential rule when we camp (aside from no pooping in the camper): “Plan your trip. Work the plan. Be flexible.”
Sometimes things go wrong.
This year’s trip was an uncommon splurge for our family. We are doing more “commercial” things this year than ever before — Universal Studios Orlando, the Ferry to Dry Tortugas National Park, Kennedy Space Center, a fan boat ride in the Everglades, etc.
Normally, we are highly economical with our trips. We haven’t ever spent more than $1,800 for an entire 3-4-week family vacation. Even then, most of it was fuel.
I was sitting at home in my bedroom recliner pondering a few deep feelings from the week. My youngest, Libbie, wandered in and sprawled on the bed. As the chattiest of our children, she was longing for a conversation. And, when she longs for a conversation, a conversation will happen whether you are ready for it or not.
She looked me in the eyes and said, “Daddy, I feel sad for Samuel. Poor Samuel.”
Most people don’t know this about me, but I’m a hugger. If we become friends, the first couple of times I give a courtesy warning, “I’m a hugger, so are you ok if I hug you?”
I’m not talking about those side hugs, or what in my youth was called a church hug where you just kind of acknowledge, “Yeah, we’re sorta friends.”
I’m talking about those “Hi grandma, I haven’t seen you in 3 years” kind of hugs. I’m talking about those “Hey kid, you did a great job in the spelling bee, even if you didn’t win” kind of hugs. I’m talking about those “You mean something to me” kind of hugs.