Recently, my family and I went on a family trip to Big Bear Lake in California. My wife and I decided to explore the beautiful California shores with our two children whenever we had the free time. We packed our minivan with our two young children, the family-sized tent, and a giant cooler full of food and drinks and drove to the lake.

It was an absolutely beautiful day. The drive wasn’t too long, and the kids weren’t as restless as usual. My oldest son pointed to the lake as it came into view. He started to sing about mountains, and camping, and swimming- all the things we had talked about as we were packing and preparing for the trip. Our youngest, who was only three at the time, tried to chime in. But his vocabulary was still growing, and he didn’t have the words to express his excitement like his six year old brother did. As we neared the lake, and saw its glimmer in the distance, our excitement also began to grow. We piped in with Mikey as he sang about the fun we would have in the lake.

When we arrived at the camp site, we immediately clambered out, allowed the kids to run around and stretch their legs. My wife and I prepared the campsite- clearing any rocks around the tent site area, setting up our tent, and all the while keeping a close eye on the children. Our two kids became enamored with a flower growing nearby- they watched as a bee circled around the flower and landed on it slowly. We all came over to watch the bee dive into the middle of the flower, and my son asked me why bees liked flowers so much. I told him that bees helped flowers grow. My youngest son, Max, tried to touch the bee in curiosity. But my wife slapped his hand away. She knew all too much about being stung by bees. She has the uncanny ability to sit directly on top of a bee when we are on a picnic, or lean against a tree that happens to have a bee resting on the very same spot. She has no animosity for bees, but with each bee sting she experienced, her awareness also grew.

After everyone was settled in, and our dinner of roasted potatoes and chicken consumed, we sat around the campfire. My two sons had found two long slender branches and were poking around the campfire while my wife watched warily. We decided to make smores and hot chocolate. After a couple hours, with sticky hands and drooping heads, the children were tucked into their sleeping bags. She zipped up the tent slowly, and turned around quietly, heading back to the fireside. We chatted for hours, and with our own growing drowsiness, we decided to sleep as well.

The next day we woke to a brilliant, cool summer morning. With the sun slowing moving higher into the sky, we prepared to go hiking in the nearby woods. We had a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages, and a dinner roll. We packed everything we needed for the trip into a backpack. The children started to become excited at the thought of climbing over rocks and kicking up dust as we hiked along the trail. An hour later, we set off.

Mikey and Max were given the task of pointing out any unusual flowers, trying to spot any wildlife, and describe anything that they thought was unusual. They pointed to all the shrubbery growing along the trail, and liked to chase the squirrels they came across. They threw rocks into dry stream beds, and kept the ones that they liked. They would later climb into the tent, put their small heads together, and use their rocks to play whatever games they could with them.

The next day, our camping trip had ended, and with our supplies exhausted, and our eager children ready to go home, we packed up the minivan and made the trip home. My wife and I marveled at how much the children had grown, and with them sleeping quietly in the back, we hummed Mikey’s song about mountains, camping, and swimming.