It's July.
Camping time again.
Something our family has done for the
past 1000 years.
Okay, so I only remember the last fifty
or so, so I'm guessing.
We have had a lot of adventures in that
time.
Today, I'm remembering one that
happened because of our little blue tent trailer.
Our little trailer was purchased in
Calgary, Alberta in January 1978.
It was so cold that day that I thought
the flooring was a sheet of tin.
In my defence, linoleum can resemble
tin when it is frozen solid.
Moving on . . .
When the planet heated up a bit, we
opened our new purchase and discovered a tidy, little world in
itself.
Three neat beds and a square central
floor.
Perfect for a family of eight.
It has taken our family everywhere.
For many years, we camped yearly in a
beautiful campground in Saskatchewan.
Kimball Lake.
And that's where this story takes
place.
Our two youngest were napping.
I use this word lightly.
Because there was no 'napping'
happening.
Tristan was in the playpen on the
floor.
And Tiana on the bed she shared with
her older sister.
Tristan had learned to crawl out of his
pen and onto one of the beds.
Normally, this wouldn't have been a
problem.
Let me describe our trailer to you.
It has three wings that fold out to
form the beds.
The canvas wraps around each of these
wings and hooks securely underneath.
With elastic cords.
It is possible to slide through those
spaces.
If your small enough.
And Tristan, at thirteen months was
definitely small enough.
He crawled up onto the bed.
Rolled against the side.
And slid through.
Now it wasn't a long drop to the ground
underneath, but it would have given the little fellow quite a jolt.
Tiana, three, had been watching.
She saw him slip through.
And, with uncharacteristic
three-year-old speed and fortitude, leaped across and grabbed him.
“Mo-om!”
My good friend, Tammy and I were seated
just outside, visiting.
Suddenly, we saw a pair of little legs
kicking and wiggling out of the side of the trailer and heard my
daughter call out.
I ran into the trailer.
Tiana and the top half of Tristan were
visible.
She had both of his hands and was
leaning back, trying to keep him from sliding further.
He was giggling happily and trying to
wiggle out of her grip.
“Mo-om!” she shouted again.
I grabbed my son and pulled him to
safety.
Then put him back in his bed with stern
instructions to stay there.
That tiny son is now a husband and
father.
But every year, when my Husby and I put
up our little trailer, I think of the small boy and his almost
escape.
I picture those little legs protruding
from the side of the trailer, kicking merrily.
And his sister, recognizing his danger
and holding on frantically with all of her three-year-old strength..
It's a good memory.
That's a sweet story. We love to camp too. I hope you have fun this week!
ReplyDeleteThank you!!
DeleteYup...that IS a good memory; a lot better than the one where he slips through and breaks both legs and everyone has to go home.
ReplyDeleteYeah. I don't think I would have liked that one!
DeleteDiane that is tooo cute! I picture it! We leaving for camping on Friday again! LOVE IT!
ReplyDeleteTotally have fun!!!
DeleteThat is a good memory, I am glad your little one never got away:)
ReplyDeleteI don't camp... just not me but I do know many people who love to go camping.
As my David would say, my idea of camping is going to the Dominican Republic at 5 star hotel :)
Yes. I'm glad that one didn't get away!
DeleteOh, I like your David's version of camping!