Last week, I dropped my kids off at overnight camp. It’s a 12-day camp in the Catskills, and they have both been there several times. Of course, camp drop-off brings up all the feelings — fewer than it used to, for sure, but it’s still a strange goodbye. It requires trusting teen counselors you’ve only just met. It requires having faith that your kids will make friends. It requires a near-total letting go of parental control.
The week before camp was particularly chaotic this year, because my kids were at my house for most of the week, then went to my ex’s for two nights. The plan was for me to pick them up from his place and drive them straight to camp. But, of course, there was a snafu and some items got left at my house, so after picking up my kids and their bags from my ex’s, we had to stop briefly at my house again.
When we loaded everything back into my car, I said to my kids: “Please check that all your bags are in the car.” I hadn’t been involved in the last stages of packing, so I didn’t know what they were bringing or how many bags there were.
When my kids didn’t seem to respond to my request, I said it again: “Guys, please check that all your bags are in the car!” I heard grunts of acknowledgment, closed the trunk, and started the car. Off we went.
I’m sure you can see where this is going. Let me tell you how it all went down.
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