Of Penguin Backpacks and Swimsuits and the Smell of Summer
Lorelei started camp last week. Nothing real fancy, just four hours of playing in the sun and getting wet and making crafts and singing songs, etc, etc.
I bought her a penguin backpack for the occasion and from it’s arrival there were daily demands of “Wear pack bag! Wear pack bag!” (If you correct her and tell her it’s a backpack, I will cut you.) Every morning it’s packed full of diapers (don’t get me started), a change of clothes, another swimsuit, a polka dot beach towel and a lunch. It comes home full of wet swimsuits and dirty clothes. Empty lunchboxes. Tucked in among the wreckage is a new craft, a necklace or a painting. I don’t know what to do with all of these things, but I do know I’m not throwing them out.
She comes home tired and smelling of sweat and sunscreen. She tells me she missed mommy. But she asks to go back.
Stop growing up, kid.