Camping? With a seven-month-old? For 10 nights?
“You’re either very brave – or just mad”, one friend said to us – after telling her about our summer holiday plans.
But despite being under a thin layer of canvas, with the nearest toilet a trek across a field, roughing it in Devon turned out to be one of our best trips yet.
My parents took me camping when I was just three weeks old, so if I survived to tell the tale, then I was sure William would be just fine.
His two sisters, Sophia and Gracie, kept him entertained while the hubby and I put the tent up (in record time and with only one minor disagreement over who forgot to pack the beers – an essential after a seven-hour drive!)
Although we were essentially roughing it, we managed to cram plenty of possessions into the car (including a handy cold water sterilising bucket, toys, foam playmats, and travel cot mattress) so the little chap still had five-star luxury.
And as we set up our new holiday home, he was happy shuffling around on the sleeping bags and playing on the air bed.
Blessed with good weather, the girls enjoyed outdoor games, while William was content watching the birds flying by or pulling up grass (which seemed like a fairly risk-free activity – until we saw him heading for some rabbit droppings!)
He was a delight at night, thanks to all the fresh air and fun knocking him out... apart from one 2.30am crying session when his front teeth started to make an appearance.
But thankfully both our neighbours said they didn’t hear a peep out of William the whole time... unlike the guy snoring at the bottom of the field who kept most of us awake one night!
With fresh air, children running free, a baby shuffling happily around the tent, eating al fresco, and being woken up to the sound of a rabbit nibbling grass by our heads – what more could you want from a holiday? Maybe we are mad, but we’re already planning the next trip!