We survived. More than survived. Camping was fun!
The worst thing we forgot was hot dog condiments, so we had plain, fire-roasted all-beef dogs. There’s nothing quite like not having a condiment to remind you of why you liked them in the first place.
The evening also caused me to coin a new phrase: caveman warm-and-fuzzies. I got them after McKay fell asleep in my lap in front of the fire. It was like something straight out of the neolithic: me and my mate in front of a fire, grunting contentedly (well, I was grunting, but it doesn’t take a campfire for that). I was holding our sleeping offspring, warmly wrapped in animal pelts (woolly blankies). Our dog was curled up between us, edged comfortably close to the fire, but ears and nose pointed out into the waiting darkness. After rolling McKay into his sleeping bag in our tent and standing up, if I’d had a spear, I would have leaned on it.