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Five Ways to mess up taking the child to camp:
-forget to send in his health paperwork
-take a different highway
-forget to send in his health paperwork
-take a different highway
-get there too early
-forget his pillow
-(accidentally on purpose) forget his talking watch
We did all this and more, but El Grande arrived at camp happy, excited, and ready to run the place.
The camp called last week and reminded me to send his paperwork. I thought, “Gee, we usually do those things ASAP so we don’t forget.” Then I remembered what our lives were like in spring when these papers came, and thought “no surprise”. I pulled up the form they’d sent by email a few months ago, filled it out, and mailed it. Done.
We have two potential routes to get there — the new highway and the old highway. We took the old one, the scenic route. Why? I don’t know. Old habit, maybe. The blind child, of course, doesn’t see enough to enjoy the scenic (slower) route, so that wasn’t a good idea.
Despite the scenic (slower) route AND stopping for lunch on the way, when we got there and gave the gatekeeper his name, she said, “Oh, you’re scheduled to register an hour from now.” Oops. I guess that paper got lost in the shuffle, too. G is fairly near the beginning of the alphabet, so we thought for sure El Grande would be registering with the first group. But lucky us; the lines were so short that they let us come in and get started right away. (Of course, they didn’t let us in until after making a big deal about how we could “wait in the car” or “hang out in the camp store” until his official time. They must be trained to apply guilt trips to any parents who dare arrive early.)
Ironically, on the way there The Husband had whispered to me, “Are you sure we have the right date?” Yes, even though we had no idea what time to arrive.
So then…I set a suitcase by the check-in and realized that we had forgotten to bring pillows. I whispered such to Husband, and we nodded silently that we’d think of a solution, not letting El Grande hear. Husband then whispered to me that I’d forgot to bring the talking watch.
A-ha!! At last something we did absolutely right. I left the watch at home on purpose in memory of the summer that he ruined two watches at two different camps by dunking them under water.
Amidst these semi-catastrophic (to us) events, El Grande grabbed his white cane and proceeded to lead us around the main camp buildings, greet several staffers by name, inform anyone who asked that this was his seventh year attending, congratulate his favorite counselor on being promoted to unit director, and hug the camp director, who told him to stop growing because he’s now at least three inches taller than she is.
In case you’re wondering, the cabins always have extra pillows to accommodate kids with parents like us (sans guilt trip this time). El Grande didn’t even realize we’d forgotten them.
The camp called last week and reminded me to send his paperwork. I thought, “Gee, we usually do those things ASAP so we don’t forget.” Then I remembered what our lives were like in spring when these papers came, and thought “no surprise”. I pulled up the form they’d sent by email a few months ago, filled it out, and mailed it. Done.
We have two potential routes to get there — the new highway and the old highway. We took the old one, the scenic route. Why? I don’t know. Old habit, maybe. The blind child, of course, doesn’t see enough to enjoy the scenic (slower) route, so that wasn’t a good idea.
Despite the scenic (slower) route AND stopping for lunch on the way, when we got there and gave the gatekeeper his name, she said, “Oh, you’re scheduled to register an hour from now.” Oops. I guess that paper got lost in the shuffle, too. G is fairly near the beginning of the alphabet, so we thought for sure El Grande would be registering with the first group. But lucky us; the lines were so short that they let us come in and get started right away. (Of course, they didn’t let us in until after making a big deal about how we could “wait in the car” or “hang out in the camp store” until his official time. They must be trained to apply guilt trips to any parents who dare arrive early.)
Ironically, on the way there The Husband had whispered to me, “Are you sure we have the right date?” Yes, even though we had no idea what time to arrive.
So then…I set a suitcase by the check-in and realized that we had forgotten to bring pillows. I whispered such to Husband, and we nodded silently that we’d think of a solution, not letting El Grande hear. Husband then whispered to me that I’d forgot to bring the talking watch.
A-ha!! At last something we did absolutely right. I left the watch at home on purpose in memory of the summer that he ruined two watches at two different camps by dunking them under water.
Amidst these semi-catastrophic (to us) events, El Grande grabbed his white cane and proceeded to lead us around the main camp buildings, greet several staffers by name, inform anyone who asked that this was his seventh year attending, congratulate his favorite counselor on being promoted to unit director, and hug the camp director, who told him to stop growing because he’s now at least three inches taller than she is.
In case you’re wondering, the cabins always have extra pillows to accommodate kids with parents like us (sans guilt trip this time). El Grande didn’t even realize we’d forgotten them.
We’re not always forgetful. We’ve just lost our rational minds somewhere in the last several months and we’re still looking for them. Maybe they’re underwater…or in the stack of papers with the registration times listed….