How did I get here? I ask myself as I scour the store for its last propane campfire in a can. I am not sure camping is my thing anymore but it is a fairly common rite of passage. One that I cursed my parents for not conforming to, robbing me of that very vital part of Canadiana childhood. It is also just about all I can think of doing (with my kids) that would not drive me completely insane with stupidity…then again maybe it will. I know for sure it will if I have to go another year without a campfire. Along with campsite reservations, fire bans seem to be the local way of doing things around here. Just to make me feel more alien to these foreigners. Don’t get me wrong before kids all I needed was my man and patchwork tent and a couple of matches. Now, like all things parent related, “FUN” as I once defined it seems to be sucked from the lifeblood of every well laid plan and absorbed by the ignorant selfish bliss of the mini kin folk. A fake fire?? Maybe the world is coming to an end after all, incase the floods, tornados and earthquakes did not indicate that we are camping on the precipice.
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