There comes a time in parenting when you realize that when you go somewhere on a trip, it's not all about you, it's about the kids, and that if they have a good time, the trip is a success.

But I haven't reached that point yet, so I'm still hacked about my camping trip this weekend.

One of my colleagues, Ralph De La Cruz, wrote today about how hard it was to find a camping spot this weekend. But apparently he did not check out Peanut Island in Palm Beach County.
Or maybe he went on Saturday, the more popular day.

We went camping Sunday. After our recent campout in the middle of Florida at the awesome Kissimmee Prairie Preserve State Park, I was so revved up about camping I bought a new tent. I searched the calendar and promised myself that every three-day weekend, when the kids are out of school for whatever reason, we would go camping.

But now I know that not every campout is a soul-enriching experience. Why did I think that going to a beach packed with other South Floridians and surrounded by civilization on all sides would feel like a get-away?

Still, I have to recommend this place. Lots of people go there just for the day, to picnic. You take a water taxi over there from the Riviera Beach Marina. For camping, you can book it a few months ahead of time. The campsites are soft sand, with picnic tables, and grills. The bathrooms have hot water and showers.

Any time you can yank your kids away from the TV, it's good.

But I had a few setbacks that kind of fouled the mood. Never pack a bottle of whiskey in a bag of your youngest child's clothing, for one thing.

And if you take the family dog along, and the family dog is stronger than your youngest child, do not give the dog's leash to the youngest child to hold.

Also, it rained.

Apparently if you want to know if it's going to rain in a particular area on a particular day, just find out, "Is Brittany going camping there?''

I just have to keep telling myself that the kids had fun, and that's the important thing.

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