Marshmallows for Breakfast.

My buddy Gene and I took our kids, (his one, my three) to Jester Park, which is a campground north of Des Moines and not completely flooded by the flood of 2008. We showed up at about 5 p.m. on Saturday night. We were well prepared for the trip with the exception of mental stability and capacity to manage children who had never camped before.

Its amazing what you can get away with when Mom's aren't around. This would include popsicles, marshmallows cereal and bacon for breakfast, and smores after hot dogs for dinner. Caroline only had to pee every 20 minutes which was a drive, and Drew didn't really settle down and stop antagonizing his sisters until about 11. Nemo was watched in the tent by all four kids, and all was well for about 10 minute intervals until someone would hit someone else and then there would be crying and threats from Gene and I about no marshmallows for breakfast. Dads never fulfill these kinds of threats. It would be more painful for us not to give them marshmallows for breakfast. The idea that we, simple men, could get away with giving them marshmallows for breakfast, something mom's would not allow, either made us feel cool or like unsupervised children ourselves.

We secured a spot just overlooking the river with plenty of shade. No rain, about a 65 degree night. Could not have been any better. After the kids went to bed, Gene and I had some beers and just sat by the fire. We both agreed that while this was a good time, we both could have handled having some moms around.

6 a.m. came pretty quickly, and the children alerted the rest of the campground at about 6:02 that it was time to wake up and seize the day. We were packed up and home by 8:30 a.m. Looking forward to a nap and for the chance to take them camping again.