Monday, July 9, 2007
Camp Crazy Mom
The 8 year old is at camp this week. All week. Overnight camp, all week, without me.
I'm not sure how I feel about this.
When we dropped her off, (we - her entourage - Dad, Mom, Step dad, baby sister), she was reserved and into shy mode, which doesn't happen often. Her pitch goes up a few notches, her speech slows down, her eyes barely graze eye level before shooting back down to her feet. Definitely not the same kid who bounds around the house, giggly uproariously, farting on cue, hugging me every chance she gets.
I wanted to shake the nice teenage Counselor. Shake her hard and yell, "Do you know what you're doing? Will you keep her safe?" Of course, I just smiled and made some insipid joke about her state of mind to do this by choice.
I imagine she bounced back quickly last night when she figured out that a cabinful of 8 year old girls is a receptive audience. She won't be the ring leader, but she'll be the friendliest of the bunch. She's probably not the instigator of the pranks, but she's the one who will laugh hardest at the outcome.
I've done what I can do from this end - mailed letters ahead of time, sent a package, tucked secret notes into her luggage, along with some contraband bubble gum. Now I'm going about my day, occasionally checking her camp schedule and wondering what songs she is learning in the mess hall, what devilish plan they've cooked up to raid the boys' cabin, what she's thinking when she is going to sleep on the top bunk by the door.
I hope she's having fun.