I dread the day
 

I was thinking last night, looking at my infant son, that the day is not far distant when he will want to go camping. He will want to sleep out in the woods with the animals and the bugs, on a bed made of rocks and roots, in a sleeping bag that is always too hot or too cold. He will be excited to eat a poorly cooked dinner over an open campfire made of meat that has been in the danger zone too long and some type of burnt starch. He will wander around in the Utah mountains with others his own age who are equally senseless with regards to reasonable safety. If you haven't guessed it, I hate camping. I don't fish, I don't hunt, I don't hike, I don't cross country ski, I don't rock climb, I don't "boulder." I don't do any of these things because I find them boring, tedious, and uncomfortable. Now we come to my problem. I don't want to ruin any of these things for my son if he likes them. Invariably, I expect that will lead me to many of these, imo, useless and lame activities and I will have to portray a neutral countenance to prevent my dislike from tainting my son's opinions. Are there other dads out there who have faced this challenge and succeeded? Did you camp with your son? Did you find a way to enjoy it?

My dad never took me camping, and he quit hunting when I was very young. I camp once in a great while, but I am not a huge fan, nor do I feel like I have missed out. I think the best thign to do would be to sacrifice one night camping in the woods and go through all of the hazards of camping, and then the next night take him to a 5 star hotel to show him how you should spend your time away from home. Then he can decide which one is better.

You could have shortened that to four words:

"I am a pussy."

Thief. That's my line. ;)

Good thoughts.

I'm not sure how it makes me a pussy. I don't think anyone who knows me would agree with your assessment.

Camping. Euphemism for "sleeping in the dirt."

Step 1: Pull the string.

Step 2: Admit to being a pussy.

How are you a pussy you ask? Because you place entirely too high a preference to creature comforts and you don't get either an adrenaline rush or an erection when you end the life of a living creature. Personally, I have admitted I prefer golfing more than hunting and like you I needed help to get the ol wife knocked up, but I still catch wood when I end another creature's mortal existence through the use of treble hooks or shotgun shells or .246 bullits.

Maybee we are both gay, but I don't live in the Avenues...;)

Bloody hell, listen to yourself:

"tedioius and uncomfortable"? With all due respect, you sound like Paris Hilton.

You need to grow a pair and venture outside the country club just a bit. I am sure K-Dog Jr. will have a generally sweet life cruising around in the back of daddy's "de-badged" Mercedes sucking on a silver spoon. But if the kid is afraid to go on a hike, do a little fly-fishing, or rappel down a cliff, then he is going to be a pussy too. And all the Gucci leather in the world won't compensate for that.

Going hunting is about as courageous (and useful) as killing a cow in a field. I'm not a big fan of the practice. I'm also not a camper, but don't mind doing it on occasion. I see the appeal, and feel it's occasionally useful to remind us that we're just as fragile as any other animal when not inside the bubble of civilization. I've also had some great star-gazing experiences while camping, but don't really think back on my experiences as being "fun." Camping and hunting don't seem nearly difficult enough to justify calling someone a pussy who doesn't enjoy them, particularly since it seems that many of the most manly campers are the ones going to groomed campgrounds complete with outhouses.