I think I was six or seven the year my parents had the hardwood floors refinished in our house. I remember it being summer, and a good one at that, as I was going to an awesome day camp that I enjoyed a lot.
The way the house was laid out, having the floors refinished meant the only parts of the house we could access were my parents bedroom, the half-bathroom, the basement, the kitchen, and with a clever bridge that my dad created out of two milk crates and a board, we could access the full bathroom. Everything else was off limits till the floors were finished. Thankfully, it was summer, and my parents lack of disposable income led to a bit of creativity.
They created a campsite in the back yard for us. Being summer, it was pretty fitting, and it was a lot of fun! For three days we slept in sleeping bags in the tent. While my mom cooked in the kitchen, we ate on the picnic table next to the tent and enjoyed popsicles and smores for dessert.
Three days of living in a tent were any kid's dream, cause camping meant no bath! Except, that's where the bridge my dad built came into play. And to be honest, it's my favorite memory of the whole situation. It felt quite adventurous climbing across the rickety board, perilously perched atop the waxy milk crates. It made taking a bath not so bad, at least for those few days!
Day 18 Prompt: Tell a story from your childhood. Dig deep and try to be descriptive about what you remember and how you felt.