Our boy talked all day of sleeping outside tonight in the tent he and his siblings made this morning. It's constructed of old sheets, a tablecloth, and a tarp that daddy put up when it began to rain.
Our boy couldn't wait to have his first camp out - just like the Civil War days. Daddy said it was fine with him. The excitement mounted and, for the first time ever, he looked forward to bedtime.
But, then, bedtime came. Now that the big moment was upon our boy, he was no longer sure he wanted to sleep out in the dark. For the next 20 minutes, he leaned on the kitchen table trying to figure out where he was going to sleep tonight. He finally decided, he'd go outside. He left the house armed with a flashlight, pillow, and sleeping bag.
He was gone just long enough to settle everything in the tent, pick it all up, and come back inside insisting it was too cold! The tears in his eyes revealed his disappointment in the change of plans, in the cold, but, most of all, in himself.
It's all part of growing up. Big plans. Big dreams. Big talk.
Then, the moment comes.
As children, many times the fear wins out and the dreams are put aside. But, sometimes, like tonight, a child may step out and attempt to reach his goal. He's afraid, but brave. For a time. Then, just when he's earned the right to say he tried, he runs back to safety. To his warm home. To his mom and dad. One day, however, he will walk right into the face of fear and achieve his dream. He will not turn back.
Tonight, though, our boy is sleeping upstairs. Just where I like him!