The tent people

It’s 11 pm and everyone’s tucked in. The horses are in the barn. The cats are in the loft. And the kids and dog are in their tent.

Yes, the squatters are back: in a tent, in the yard.

They did this last summer, but I don’t know what prompted an encampment now. One day, I was out running errands and when I returned, the tent had popped up like a mushroom.

That was more than 2 weeks ago. Since then, the kids have slept out virtually every night. And they refuse to surrender their new abode.

In fact, when they’re home from school, they make a beeline for their tent.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s kind of nice. When the weather’s decent, they only come inside to eat and change clothes. (There’s an outdoor shower).

But the tent shouldn’t be a permanent fixture, I explained. Okay, they replied, as they disappeared inside and zipped up the door.

Last Thursday night — about 10 days in — I saw an opportunity for eviction: 100% chance of rain, and high winds. Finally, Martin and I had some leverage.

But the kids slept out there anyway. (I did check the radar, which called for heavy rain but no violent storms.)

Still, I didn’t sleep well; I worried about them.

Weather weary, but still standing

I walked outside at 6:30 am. It was still raining. The tent was pretty wind battered. Overnight, water perked up through the ground and rain blew in, soaking their pillows. They’d all piled together on the driest portion of the mattress, like shipwrecked survivors on a raft at sea.

Awake, barely

Cayden sleeps like the dead, but the girls had a restless night. (So did Maisie, based on her expression.)

“I was totally freaked out,” Brynn told me. “I thought the tent was going to blow away!”

What did you do? I asked.

She shrugged. “I went back to sleep. I pretended the wind was the crowd, and the raindrops on the tent were hits.”

Brynn lulled herself to sleep with an imaginary baseball game.

This week, the cold posed a bigger challenge, with a hard frost a couple of nights. I tried to rub it in, asking Cayden, “Hey, will you make me a fire before you go out to your tent?”

But that didn’t smoke them out either. They just commandeered more blankets.

What’s next? I’m hoping for a heatwave. Oppressive humidity and soaring temperatures might do the trick.

Then, I’m breaking down that tent and stashing it from sight.