Parenthood is made up of non-stop Murphy’s Laws; Children always arise earlier on the weekends than the weekdays, stomach bugs inevitably occur immediately before vacations, and messes are always made on the rare occasion when the house is actually clean.
Well, I’ve just discovered a new one: The child you send to overnight camp will behave like a complete angel in the days and weeks leading up to camp, making it that much harder to deal with their departure. At least that’s what happened here.
I really would have appreciated some bitchiness last night. Some door slamming. Some eye-rolls. Some massive, nasty attitude. But nooooooooo, instead Lily has been on her absolute best behavior lately. Sweet, helpful, loving.
Last night, she even told me I was her best friend. I mean, seriously.
So, as I sit here as the cliche mother manically hitting refresh on the camp website, all I’m thinking is just how much overnight camp sucks and is the worst idea in the history of ever. Independence? Overrated. Fun? She can have that here. Memories? I’ll finally put together her baby book. I just want her home.
At least to tell me how much she hates me and that I’m the most embarrassing person in the world. Then, maybe, she can go back.
Is that too much to ask?
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