I remember the first road trip that we took with our 15 month old daughter while living in Georgia! What an adventure! We drove from Atlanta to Savannah to go camping and our daughter cried for two straight hours until we figured out that she just wanted to be in the front seat (no airbags in the old Mitsubishi, or we wouldn’t have done that). We continued our journey to Savannah, pitched our tent, and traveled into the city to see the sites. It proceeded to rain on us for the entire weekend! My wife was 7 months pregnant with our second child, so chasing after a 15 month old took the energy out of both of us. I managed to get our daughter to walk with me on the boardwalk trail near our campsite, where we saw some interesting critters, but after that, it was “Don’t get too close to the fire!” or “Put that stick down!” or “Don’t throw rocks!” every five seconds.
We took a brief excursion to the beach front in the mist, where we ate lunch. I was able to convince our daughter to climb up a cool lighthouse with me while my wife waited in the car below. I got some really cute pictures of her with the wind and rain blowing her thin, mullet-like hair. I’m sure she was miserable, but she didn’t complain too much. However, when we got back and because the borrowed tent was canvas and soaked completely through, we decided to come home a day early. While it was definitely memorable, my wife and I vowed that we would never go camping as a family again until our youngest was at least 3 years old. We kept that promise, and have gone camping every year for Spring Break (except this year due to our two oldest going on Pioneer Trek during that time).
There are plenty of stories to tell about our camping adventures, but that is for another day…