After almost a decade of parenting, I finally managed to get on top of summer camp signups.* The big kid’s going to learn web design, how to be a ninja, zip lining, windsurfing, and skateboarding. I only know how to do one of those things!
To someone who grew up the way I did** this seems like a CRAZY amount of organized activity, but the list of things we didn’t do is even longer. I got everything registered in, what, March? And already stuff like LEGO camp and Animation Camp (Animation Camp, you guys!) were entirely booked up. And then there were all the impractical to get to but so freaking cool things like Circus Camp and Ride Your Bike Around The City camp and a bunch I can’t even remember now because SO MANY CAMPS.
I never went to summer camp when I was a kid, but my husband has stories about sleep-away camps where they played around on jet skis*** and learned to do gymnastics on the backs of moving horses, so.
I’m just hoping that once the web design camp is done I can put the kid to work. Unpaid internship, here we come!
*Well, for one of them, anyway. Rory was supposed to do swim this summer. Sorry, second child! I promise I won’t write about it in your baby book! Ha ha, just kidding, you don’t have one.
**Euphemism for dirt poor.
***This story is almost hilariously traumatic; ask him about it sometime.