It’s a terrible realization.
I would jump in front of a tractor-trailer to save my son, but I would not camp out on my lawn with him.
I just see no good reason to sleep on the hard ground when I have a nice soft bed twenty steps away. Not to mention sixty degree afternoon temperatures do not mean warm nights. In fact, we are still waking to thick frost.
Frost like in ICE.
Ya. I’m not sleeping outside.
But I birthed a boy scout and married a
wild outdoors man. So FringeMan and the children attempted the great spring sleep under the stars.
Dressed in warm pajamas and winter coats, they nestled down in their sleeping bags. By one forty-five in the morning, I heard the front door open and slam shut. I lifted my head and squinted blurry eyes just as my daughter plodded up the steps. Before opening her door, she turned and saw me semi-awake.
“It’s just too cold.” She said.
I knowingly shook my head. It was the reason I stayed indoors.