I will admit to having some trepidations around the whole ‘day camp’ thing for the girls. They were nervous, too. We’ve never done it before, since we never had a need for it – they were either in daycare-as-such when I was working, or home with me when I wasn’t.
Yesterday, I received the initial report from the troops: They like it.
The games were fun. Boo Bug was a little peeved because, as one of the smallest (and, uh, less coordinated) kids in the group she really didn’t do all that well at them. And apparently some of the other kids on her team were peeved about that. The counselors did a good job of nipping it in the bud, but Boo Bug is frankly on the super-sensitive side and thus wept large tears of frustration and irritation.
Hence the kids ragged on her a little more, and the counselors were forced to take more action, and when I came to pick them up yesterday afternoon one of the other Small Ones in the group ran up to me and blurted out, “She cried a ton! Like, a real lot! All the time!!”
“Did NOT!” Boo Bug yelled disdainfully. “Just a little and I am completely over it!!” And then she hugged the informant and shrieked, “OK SEE YOU TOMORROW!” and began the mommy-you-know-what-and-you-know-what-else-and-also-you-know-what-mommy-mommy-mommy-are-you-listening assault, which she kept up all the way home. And through snack. And dinner. And the news. And…
But overall, they like it so well that…wait for it…they have requested that I sign them up for the three (four) weeks I had skipped for them on the basis that a) I wasn’t sure they’d like it and didn’t want to torture them if they didn’t and b) wasn’t 100% sure the field trips would be considered “groovy” by my offspring and c) also wasn’t 100% certain I wanted to pay for, thank you very much.
Danger Mouse will be an Only Child for one of the weeks (all praise be unto Grandma), but says she wants to go to the Week of Sports – which has a field trip to an Oakland A’s game which, to my stunned surprise, she declares she absolutely wishes to attend. Whaaaaaaa? Wait. You want to go to a baseball game?
Who are you and what have you done with my anti-athletic daughter?!?! (I used to love to play baseball, so I am secretly hopeful that this means at least one of my children will become interested in whacking at speeding projectiles with a big stick. It would give me an excuse to hang out at batting cages again. ‘Oh, well, as long as I’m waiting for my kid I might as well get a little exercise myself…’)
They all want to go to the Nature Walk at the lake.
They all want to go to the water park (duh).
They all want to go to the jungle trip at the end of the summer.
I suspect they were surprised by how fast the days go – they are actually shorter than a day at school, and a lot more fun. The arts and crafts offered are things they just can’t do here at home – I’m sorry, sand bottles? As in, bottles of colored sand? Which Captain Adventure will get all over the Den, and probably into his Pull-Ups, and definitely down the sink?
No. No, no, no, a THOUSAND TIMES NO. No sand.
(Already there has been Disaster, when Eldest left her really awesomely cool sand-fish on her dresser [artistry: she haz it], and Captain Adventure got into her room, and he uncorked it and poured the sand all over her room. Little @*^&@. She reported this disaster to me with tears sparkling in her rain-colored eyes and a quivering lip, but no murder in her soul toward her @*^&@ of a little brother. My own brother’s body would have been already growing cold if I were she. My girls really are saints. I’m serious. Can somebody get me the pope’s email? Because I’ve got three little girls who need to be canonized, ASAP…)
They love their counselors, and they’ve made new friends, and behold…they are happy. Which makes me happy.
And so does the fact that when I picked them up yesterday, a counselor came over and said, “Your girls are a real pleasure to have.” And then she made profound eye contact and repeated, firmly, “No, seriously. They. Are. A. Real. Pleasure.”
Made my entire decade.
Yo, Benedict, my man? Have your people call my people. Let’s do lunch. We’ve got business, you and me…