Babes of the woods.

When I was a child, my Dad was an incredible Father. He would play with us for hours, pull us on a sled or in a wagon and hike with us on the weekends in the mountains around Cody, Wyoming. he would run up the trail with one us on his shoulders, or swing us between him and Mom so that we flew between every step. Unless he was at home, in front of the TV. Then he would say, "I can't see. You make a better door than you do a window." as he craned to see around us. Or if we spoke, "Wait until the commercial."

I vowed that I would never have a TV. So after my boys were born, we spent a lot of time outdoors. We went camping, and hiked in Yellowstone, the Black Hills of South Dakota and the Pacific Redwoods. I thought I was doing it for them, but they don't remember it. Maybe it was a good influence, because they do both love camping, and just went together a few weekends ago - but the memories I treasure belong only to my husband and I and these old photographs.

Never-the-less, when they look back and swear that we spent all our time in front of the computer. I can tell them in all honesty, "I loved your childhood. I saw you. And I still do." and I will never regret making them play with sticks and rocks instead of dancing in front of Barney. I never felt bad about raising them unplugged except once, when a classmate asked, "What is your favorite football team?" and my son gulped and took his best guess, "the Pirates?" So now he loves camping and hiking, and THE STEELERS!