We camped in an ancient "metro," van in the sixties. It had a generator and my dad had just bought a heavy duty extension cord. He paid a lot for it--we did not have much money.
Beside the creek, my parents lay back in their hammock folding chairs, talking and watching the leaves waver while I played on the other side of the metro. Now and then I would yell "Timber!" and they would help out, yelling "Timber!" along with me. We all had a great time.
Until they realized that I had found their machete and chopped dad's extension cord into little pieces.