As promised, an update on camp time. Nikki and I have discovered that coming home after work to an empty house sucks. As a result we have been avoiding doing that, and have been eating out a LOT more than usual. There is no way to avoid the quiet when we do get home, but at least the lack of dinnertime bustle isn’t so obvious this way. We had a great weekend, took Friday off to enjoy ourselves a bit and do some hiking in Gatineau Park (which was awesome). We were doing pretty well overall, until last night when we got a letter from camp. This is our only letter from the kids to date, mind you. There was no date and no way to tell when it was written, it was from Quinn and it only contained 7 hastily written words:
Needless to say, we called the camp to make sure that Quinn was ok and not having a miserable time. The director called us back to reassure us that he had in fact been playing basketball with Quinn recently and he did in fact seem to be having a great time, something that his counsellors agreed with. So the reason for this letter is still unknown, but it seems for now that he got over whatever it was that made him write this. Nikki and I are burning with curiosity to know what happened, though. It could have simply been a moment of homesickness, or maybe something didn’t go his way. It’s hard to tell until we get them on Thursday, really. Not exactly the camp letter we thought we would be getting, but hopefully something we will have a good laugh about on Thursday.
More to come!
Court these always crack me up. Your kids are too funny
At least it didn’t say “help….”
uh oh…..
Funny stuff. I can’t wait to hear about the impetus for the letter. It could be as simple as a bad lunch. Eyvi, being far too neurotic and fretful for overnight camp, is at all-day hockey camp. It’s extremely structured and heavy on the drills – perfect for my tightly wound, order-driven boy. I know I’ve mentioned to Nikki that Eyvi is developing several compulsive tendencies: Some are charming and cute; some are frustrating and, at times, disturbing. On the frustrating side would be a battery of things related to hockey. He has become a worthy opponent in the battle to remove the crazy from his hockey regime. I’ve pretty much surrendered: I‘ve even begun to ignore the skates that are two sizes too small. And I make him drink an entire Gatorade before every game and/or practice because I know fluid is not permitted to pass his lips after he’s on the ice (given his propensity for perspiration, I can’t believe he remains conscious…). This week one of his more innocuous habits has taken centre stage: He insists on wearing long sleeves, usually in combination with fleece-lined pants. This would be okay if it weren’t 36 ° C (46 with the humidex). Yesterday I packed two pairs of shorts and two short-sleeved shirts, instructing him to make sure he wears them when he’s not on the ice. Sure enough, Jason arrived at pick-up time to find little Raymond Babbitt flushed and drenched — and still sporting his toasty uniform. Sigh.
Please please please let it be that he didn’t like the lunch that day or someone did something he did not like……I pray he enjoyed the whole thing, and will want to go back next year!!!
You must be going nuts……..!
Love to you & big hugs to the returning campers!!
Just had a thought……maybe Quinn is more like Court than I thought….hopefully this is his absolutely stellar first foray into sarcasm???
What a hoot that would be!!!
Well, it wouldn’t be his first foray into sarcasm, but it would be good if that’s what it was. Time will tell. Actually just about 24 hours from now we will know for sure….
Also, Paula, I must admit that I don’t think our boys have any, um, habits quite like Eyvi’s, but who among us can say that we are completely without strange little quirks? Just ask Nikki, who witnessed me trying to unstick a dry powdery Claritin from the side of my throat and ended up looking like a pelican choking on a particularly large tuna. It was hot, I’m sure.
I love that letter, which had to have been written early in the week to have reached you already, and the way Camp goes from my recollection:
Stage 1: first couple of days: so many new people to meet, rules to learn, bathrooms to find, too busy to be homesick, too shocked by new reality to like it, and what part of this meal do you call food?
Stage 2: Third day: have learned all the camp stuff and completely miserable and want very very much to go home! Now!!
Stage 3. Over the halfway point: Really like this camp lifestyle, really really like these new friends, really like my bunk and my sleeping bag and my flashlight, love tuck, love midnight snack, love campfire, love these songs, my counselor is the greatest human being on the face of the earth and could you find a funnier person? Never want camp to end.
Last Day: Had such a fun time at camp and I get to see my parents today and go home!!! Yahoo!
Boy does that bring back memories of Camp Lauren, having been there as a kid and then as a councilor many years later. Also, their great grandmother was the camp director at one time as well. When it comes to eating, it is diffently who can grab their one piece of toast and one egg first becauase there are never any seconds (survival of the fittest). On the positive side, there is a lot of fun and you get to meet a lot of new friends as well, and anyone that goes to camp really does appreciate their home and parents. I think my parents sent me there because I did want to go each year, (I did forget the lonesome times until I arrived each year) but also to teach me to think on my own, be independent and get along with people too. Love Aunt Marilyn
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Courtney, I guess you’re right; I should lighten up on young Eyvi. I certainly have my share of obsessions, compulsions, and hang-ups. And I’m with you on the pill thing. My throat closes the very second my brain tells it that medicine of any kind is on the way. I need a litre of water to wash down a supposedly ‘easy to swallow’ Tylenol gel capsule. And forget about cough syrup. I have a perfectly ridiculous routine if, after days of hacking, I finally acquiesce and take cough syrup. Even after chasing the dreaded syrup with a chunk of bread and a cup of juice, I still find myself gagging and dry heaving. But I’m glad to hear that Quinn’s camp experience was good; however, after hearing the real story I’d say that Cael and Eyvi (whose middle name should be cunning…) in cahoots would be a seriously dangerous thing. We should never let them meet.