Backdoor camping with my daughter is like trying to pitch a tent while juggling flaming marshmallows – it’s chaotic, but magical. We sneak into the woods beyond our pirate ship, away from the usual spots, and it’s just us, the stars, the bright planets and a half moon, and my questionable “what is safe” meter. It’s not just about teaching her how to start a fire or avoid poison ivy; it’s about building a bond where she laughs at my terrible dad-joke campfire stories. Every misadventure we have is a lesson in love and laughter, proving that even if I’m the world’s worst “yeah this is gonna work” adventurer, I’m still her favorite human. Here’s to more nights of making memories, one hilarious mishap at a time.
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