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I didn’t grow up camping. I wasn’t a girl scout, unless you count one less-than-successful year of Brownies. I didn’t complete anything that one could construe as a hike until solidly into high school. But in another sense, the forest was a formative part of my life — my childhood home was actually under the eaves of a state forest in New England, and the dappled shade of sunlight filtering through leaves will always have a place in my heart.

My husband, on the other hand, grew up trekking from California’s central coast up to the Sierra Mountains every summer. More than a vacation, it was a family pilgrimage with favorite sites and meals, preferred weeks to go so as to coordinate with festivals and events, ritual pit stops along the drive. When we were engaged and I went along with them for the first time, I was a bit intimidated, having never spent the night in a tent before. But I survived and I’ve come to really enjoy the experience. For a few days at least.

Big Brother loves camping. Sleeping in a tent is his idea of a great time and s’mores hight be his perfect dessert. The first time he saw a campfire, he was smitten for life. And the pictures of his first time exploring Big Meadow at Shenandoah National Park might as well be an advertising campaign for Osh Kosh overalls.

After a few forays with him, I thought I’d picked up on a few winning strategies for the whole kids and camping equation. Of course, as we assemble our gear, I’ve remembered that the first time we took him out to the woods overnight he was an 18-month-old toddler. And Little Brother is a not-quite-walking 11 months. So that might make for some interesting differences!

My biggest mantra going in is to stay flexible. It might rain and be cold, or be humid as all get out. There is a chance that our littlest guy won’t sleep and we’ll be too tired to venture far afield. Obviously we have some plans made, but aren’t married to them.

I keep telling myself to remember this is car camping, not backpacking. There are no awards for bringing a limited amount of gear and there is nothing worse than an inconsolably cold child — we may have run into that one over the winter on a day trip. I will be prepared. I will be organized. I will, probably, overpack. And because of that, I will let them get dirty. And poke all the things they want with stick.

Beyond being flexible, I will take it slow. When Big Brother was two, he spent almost 30 minutes sitting quietly on a rock at the rear of the campsite gazing into the woods and watching for deer. We had planned to head off on a hike, but weren’t about to tear him away; embracing nature is the whole reason we made the trip.

Speaking of hiking, adjust your definition of what that entails as necessary. This time out, I am not in the best shape of my life, but the limiting factor is more likely to be Big Brother. At 4.5 he was just upgraded to full member of the hiking party, as opposed to hiking backpack occupant. He did a few miles the other weekend at Sugarloaf Mountain as a road test, quite successfully. But the days of being a one-kid family that could do the summit trail of Hawksbill, the highest peak in the park, are probably gone. This time out, hikes may consist primarily of the meadow. And, honestly, we may even drive to the visitor center rather than spend a good chunk of his energy getting from the campsite to any trail heads.

So wish us luck! And if you have any last-minute tips for camping with a just-shy-of-one-year-old, I’d love to hear them.