It Can Be Very Rewarding When Your Child Doesn’t Follow in Your Footsteps

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Three weeks of winter vacation felt like a bit much. To break the monotony, I signed my oldest son up for something called Eco Camp.

I found out about Eco Camp from a post by our county parks department on the Nextdoor website. I typically don’t visit Nextdoor unless I want to know what everyone thinks that loud noise was, but this announcement landed in my email inbox and I’m glad it did.

First of all, we really needed something for the 8-year-old to do that didn’t involve bickering with his younger siblings over control of the TV remote. Second, as everyone knows, I’m passionate about the outdoors and I would love nothing more than for my offspring to follow in the footsteps left by my hiking boots that I bought that one time for some reason.

By now you probably know about my fishing prowess, but you might not know that for a few fleeting late summer days in 2003 in the foothills of Virginia I was a hiker. I moved from Florida to Charlottesville to attend law school and one of my first purchases was a pair of hiking boots. I laced those babies up several weekend mornings during my six weeks in law school and made the hour drive into the mountains.

I was born and raised in flat and swampy Florida where sidewalk slabs pushed up by tree roots growing underneath are sometimes called mountains; however, true mountains always called to me. So, when I finally got the opportunity, I hiked. Three or four times. Without a cell phone! I was completely cut off from the world. I might as well have been an explorer setting sail from Europe in the 1500s except instead of a rickety ship, I was steering a rickety Mazda Protege.

So, it should come as no surprise that my oldest child took to Eco Camp like a mountain goat to a mountain. Well, that is, except for the lingering effects of his hoverboard crash.

Two days after Christmas and three days before Eco Camp started, my son toppled off his new hoverboard, badly scraping his knees on the asphalt street. He’s a trooper, so the howling only lasted for a few days, but the aftereffects were significant. Thus, he headed to Eco Camp with a pronounced limp and a straight-legged gait.

I was a bit concerned that he might not be up for the physical activity—hiking, fishing, and what not—but it turned out my fears were mostly unfounded.

When I arrived in the afternoon for pick up after the first day of Eco Camp, the first thing the lead counselor said was, “This is definitely his cup of tea.”

I knew it.

She then said, “His poor knees, though. But he was such a trooper! Although I did encourage him to try to bend his legs a bit when we were hiking so he wouldn’t trip over any tree roots.”

A true chip off the old block.

The rest of the week went smoothly. My son’s knees got a little better each day and he continued to love everything about the camp. I was very shy as a child, so it’s always heartwarming to see my children flourishing in unfamiliar situations. Despite my innate rugged outdoorsy-ness, I wouldn’t have taken to anything like Eco Camp because of the required social interaction.

That’s the thing about parenting. The day-to-day drudgery often feels relentless and thankless, but there are rays of sunlight that break through the clouds. Sometimes it’s seeing a bit of yourself in your children and sometimes it’s seeing the exact opposite. Eagerness to tackle anything instead of calculating reticence.

My son may or may not grow up to be an outdoorsman. Time will tell. But as far as I’m concerned, he’s already an adventurer. And that’s more than enough for me.

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