Lessons From Summer Camp

This morning I went to the camp which had bravely hosted my two daughters for a week. Let's all pause and say a silent thank you that all the buildings still appeared to be standing and only a few councilors/staff members were twitching uncontrollably.

I collected our belongings and went to my girls' cabins to see how they did. Both were bubbling over with enthusiasm (Yeah! Camp Victory rocks!) They couldn't believe it was already time to go home. They were both still in possession of all limbs so I call it a rousing success.

On the way home they dazzled me with their new Bible verses and new camp songs. It was a cute theme about being in the "Army of God." Or so I thought when packing them off with dad's old uniform t-shirts. Turns out when you go to summer camp in Alabama they have a more literal take on that "Army of God" stuff. So I learned when daughter #2 proudly displayed her blue bracelet earned for first place in the rifle shooting contest. Can you blame me for nearly driving off the road at that point? Don't get me wrong, I'm a pretty decent shot myself, but who in their right friggin' mind would give THAT KID an actual weapon? Those people are either REALLY brave or REALLY dumb because they came awfully close to meeting the Supreme Commander in Chief the day they placed a loaded weapon in that kid's arms. I wouldn't put it past that kid to take out the competition, if you get my drift. She probably wouldn't shoot to kill, mind you, but she'd consider a kneecap all right.

Don't get me wrong, the kid has a lot of good qualities and I always enjoy her competitive spirit. OK, that's a flat out lie, but it sounded good didn't it? I mean I enjoy watching her competing, but the win at all costs, with your shield or on it, is pure dad. She didn't get a drop from me. I'm more the "find your own pond and don't share with anybody so you can be the biggest fish" type of person. She (and her father) are more the jump into the middle of the sharks, laugh for joy and feel the adrenaline rush types. I mean, I most likely wouldn't actually un-friend people on FB when their high scores topped mine, but if my fingers slipped... Ok, that's another lie. I totally would. Or at least stop playing that game and find a new one. I'm the mom who works the booth fund raising, does the behind the scenes scut work and holds it together. NOT the one screaming that MY KID needs to be in the spotlight...er else! I especially don't do this since the kid does it all on her own. I get to take the moral high ground cause nobody's gonna step on that kid, she'll squash 'em like a bug. All part of my plan---cue evil laughter.

The biggest part of the sleep away camp lesson is that they will be exposed to things I'm not thrilled about but they survived and they loved it. No perverts, no accidents, no calamities. I am all too aware that any or all of those bad things could have happened, but just a bit I let go. Sure there is risk involved, but what part of life doesn't have some risk? What would childhood be without obnoxious songs, bad camp food, and triumphs? OK, safe, but we live on the edge in this family. Well they do, I just bring the orange slices, extra glitter eye shadow, and drive the carpool.