I think we can all agree that the sleep-away summer camp is the single greatest invention in the history of parenting. You really can’t oversell this one. The parents get a break from refereeing and nagging, and the kids get to swim, climb, hike, and try new things without giving their parents the satisfaction of knowing about it. Summer camp is also the only time Justin gets excited about being in a non-digital environment for a week. It’s win-win.
The only knock against summer camp is the fact that it is a giant black hole into which my kids’ possessions disappear. Over the years, I have donated four towels, two shirts, three socks, and a set of glasses. (On the other hand, the little bottles of soap and shampoo that I throw in never go astray; they always come back untouched.)
So this year when it was time to come home, Justin insisted he had everything. I wasn’t foolish enough to accept this at face value. We’re talking about a guy who will insist he washed his hands despite not having been within three feet of a known water source. But incredibly, it turned out that everything that went to camp also came home from camp. When I asked him how he’d done it, he said, and I quote, “I just picked up all the stuff that was mine.”
If only someone had explained that to him before.