Friends!

We have just returned from a week at "camp." Alex works at an end-of-the-year camp for college students for two weeks every May, and the kids and I get to accompany him for a week. For a mom, camp is kind of like childbirth: it's pretty excruciatingly hard, it results in a lot of sleep deprivation, and in the process, you think, "I will definitely never do this again." After it's over, though, the memories begin to fade, and you think, "It was kind of fun, actually. I could do that again." So yet again this May, we headed up into the beautiful mountains of western Virginia. Now for a kid, camp is a pretty marvelous experience. Sugar cereal for breakfast. Huge grassy fields to run. A creek to play in. A sandy beach to build castles. 400 college students always doing something worth watching. And, most significantly for D, the presence of other staff families. Yes, for a week straight, my decidedly extraverted son spent 92% of his waking hours with two other three year olds, a couple of older kids, and some younger siblings. For him, this is heaven. He called the collective group "the friends." From the moment he woke, he was concerned about where "the friends" were and when he would see them. If "the friends" were going to play on the playground, he wanted nothing more. If "the friends" were going to color, or go to the beach, or roll down the hill, or play frisbee, there he was among them, all enthusiasm and joy at being a part of "the friends." One evening, our family had to run up to our apartment just before dinner, thereby putting us a minute or two behind the group as they took the short walk to dinner. When we emerged and D realized his separation from the group, he took off down the sidewalk, yelling "Friends! Friends!" Now that the friends have disbanded, and we've all returned to our respective homes, I fear this week back at home may be a tough one for him.