We're back from camping on the Delaware River over Memorial Day weekend. It's our second year ringing in the summer with a family camping trip, and we hope to make it an annual tradition. I grew up without any outdoor adventures, except for trips to the beach and the occasional hotel pool. This year was extra special, because the Schmoopette can walk and didn't have to spend the entire time in a baby carrier. She in fact touched (and almost squashed) her first frog. The Schmoop "caught" several in his bug kit and after examining and naming each one, he would promptly let them go. He and the other preschoolers were in heaven. There was a rafting trip, a canoeing trip and gourmet meals made over a campfire. I was in awe of the other couples for whom camping is second nature. I felt kind of useless and tended to do as I was told. But each time we camp, I like it more and more. The husband, on the other hand, is a former Boy Scout who can pitch a tent in less than 10 minutes. He managed to chop wood, dress the salad and lead the children in their nature walks without breaking a sweat. Did I mention that the Schmoopette learned to love the taste of muddy rocks? She savored them like an exotic delicacy. I'm certain she ingested several tablespoons of dirt. Even dirt is palatable when sandwiched between graham crackers and melted marshmallows, I guess.