Gone camping

LIKE most children mine have their failings.
But consumerism, so pervasive among kids, is not one of them.
They don't own all the electronic gadgetry because, among other things, it would drive me crazy trying to police the use of it.
So, when they ask for something I don't dismiss it out of hand. That was until the eldest, 10, started making noises about a tent.
I'm no snob but camping has not figured in my repertoire and it's not something I want to add now.
People insist if you camped as a kid you have fond memories.
Soon all three kids, at the instruction of the eldest, began a chorus of "can we get a tent for Christmas?".
It was ringing in my ears as I ducked into Kathmandu and did the sums. This tent could pay for itself in a few nights.
The sub-plot was that they could go with their Dad. Afterall, he's the one with the fond childhood memories.
The eldest asked if ``Santa'' brought a tent would it be set up in the loungeroom.
This troubled me. It was too big for inside and probably even our courtyard. There could be tears on Christmas morning when they found Santa had left a canvas bag weighing 24 kg.
Then I heard Big4 was offering a free night of camping. The most convenient was in the Western Suburbs.
My plan was for my husband and I to set it up for the kids as a surprise while they were at school and creche. He knew better than to resist. In any case, he was working that afternoon so wouldn't be there for the animal hour.
The day arrived last Friday and we took the tent from its hiding place and made our way to Braybrook. A dust storm came through and we hung on to the tent for dear life. An English couple, happily ensconced in their van, took pity on us as did a nice bloke from New South Wales down for the Pearl Jam concert.
``It's usually a good idea to have a practice run at home,'' he advised.
Three-quarters through, we realised the porch would hang half way across the road, so we left it dangling.
We raced home and grabbed some basic gear and I picked the kids up, telling them I had some jobs to do.
As we rounded the corner, the children were excited. Then came the big moment. ``Awesome'' they declared as they bumped around as if they were on a jumping castle.
After dinner at a nearby pokies pub, I picked up a slab to give to my Good Samaritans.
"Big night," a Grey Nomad asked as he stepped from his well-appointed caravan. I explained our adventure.
"You usually do a practice run at home," he said.
After a swim everyone was asleep at 9pm. Then my husband turned up at midnight looking for a key for the loo. His usual ride home was confused when he said he was off to Braybrook not Richmond. ``Have you split from your missus, Mate?" he asked.
Too early we found ourselves breakfasting at McDonalds early on Saturday.
The two eldest were wearing their school uniforms because in the rush a change of clothes was forgotten.
"It's OK, no one knows us,'' I promised.
Back home, they were buzzing, hoping we may be able to leave Melbourne for our next trip.
It's reinforced my view that they do not need gadgets to have fun. But, I'm making no commitments. I am too consumed with trying to get the tent back into the bag.