Aidan returned from camp yesterday. She had the time of her life—playing in a “river”, making s’mores over the giant campfire, going to bed at 11pm, and learning new songs. I asked what the best part of camp was. She said, very enthusiastically, “bedtime!”
When I asked why, she replied that her cabin had eight bunk beds, and only seven girls. That meant every girl got a coveted top bunk. Every girl was a happy camper.
Another weepy mommy moment occured when the bus pulled up in front of the church. It has to be the hormones. I usually don’t choke back tears at the sight of tour buses. Last night she was a bit weepy and overtired from her jam-packed days and late nights. She said she wants to go back and that some of the kids were wishing the bus would break down so they wouldn’t have to leave.
Summer camp is the closest thing our kids have to the idyllic old-fashioned childhood summer of rope swings, lemonade, nature hikes, roasted hot dogs, bug bites, Calamine, and flashlight light-saber battles. I am so glad she got the experience and the memories that get pulled out of starry skies and s’mores. I can’t blame her for wanting to go back.
Leave a Reply