we lived in a campground for the summer. and it was like Narnia
Our kids live a very 80s-era lifestyle. They drink from the hose. They snag freezies for the neighbourhood and wander for hours at a time, something that I’ve never really worried about, raising them in the suburbs of Edmonton.
Camping provides autonomy, a vast amount of freedom, a gaggle of kids and the opportunity for risky play. Elements that have shaped our experience as adults, and something that too many of my children’s friends are unfamiliar with.
From taking an axe and a couple of meters of rope, scavenged from the garage, to the urban forest in our neighbourhood, a couple of small acres with hidden, kid-made paths off shooting the popular dog walking area, to the tires we collected from the recycling with lengths of 2x4s to create a risky play, ‘garbage playground’ in our backyard - risky play is an important element of how we’ve raised our kids.
If you don’t live in an area where it’s safe for your kids to roam for hours on end, with an axe and a length of rope, if you’re not comfortable doing it, if you’re trying to find a way to safely introduce the benefits of an 80s childhood: autonomy, a vast amount of freedom, a gaggle of children and the opportunity for risky play - take your kids to a campground.
this summer, we lived in a campground. well, for the weekdays anyway.
At the campground, fast friendships are made. Kids are dirty. Wandering around searching for their next adventure, not a parent in sight.
Campgrounds are a place for our kids to regain their freedom, their autonomy and re-discover risky play. The benefit is they get to do it in an environment that is controlled, curated for discovery. A chance for kids born in the last decade to experience the freedom of living life as their parents, born in the 80s and 90s.
It’s a community for parents, too. During one week of camping I’ve returned one toddler to his tent - grey, his older sister corrected him, after I asked if he remembered what color the tent he slept in is. I’ve fed strangers’ kids, my kids have been fed by strangers. I’ve rescued the same kid from the pool, three times, and offered up to juice boxes to thirsty ten-year-olds. During the same time, a parent has helped our kid wash the mud from their legs in the shower-room, fed our kid pasta for dinner and gave them $0.63 when they didn’t have enough coins to pay for the gummy eyeballs they were buying at the store
