On one of our first camping trips as a family, we saw another family "from another country" at a picnic table under a pavilion with sacks from Sonic. They didn't have a tent; they didn't have sleeping bags; they weren't even staying overnight. What they did have was a fire in the fire pit made from pine limbs and other scavenge, they had Mom and Dad and the children running around laughing and enjoying one-another's company and perhaps best of all, they had the biggest smiles on their faces. Fortunately, for my parenting legacy, I didn't say what I originally thought (something to the tune of "That's fast-food, not camping"), but after I considered what I was watching, I was actually envious of their togetherness. There was no doubt in my mind that they were a family and that the whole point of their outing that day was spending time together. I don't care if you have a tent, a p'up, a $400,000 class A or nothing but the trunk of a car; if you're out and about with your family, you have it ALL. And I don't care what you call it.