The summer camp fence I’m booting the kids over is so organized and meticulous that I’m completely ignoring the fact it spells camp, campers and counselors with Ks.
I’ve gotten calls (kalls?) that have answered any koncerns I may have had about sending Jordan to a place filled with typical kids. The list of stuff to bring and stuff not to bring is well thought out and fully explanatory. If the camp took dogs and babies, I’d be dead with joy.
Remember my love languages acts of service and material gifts? Covered by my sweetie in one trip to walmart.com as he scored nearly everything on the stuff to bring list in less than an hour. Sleeping bags, coolers, camp jammies, bug spray…Q is the best baby daddy ever. I’d been ledging it over the past few days, and he’s talked me down more than a few times with sweet whispers and money. If I had any extra cash, I’d buy one of those I love my husband bumper stickers. Wouldn’t stick it on my car, though. That’s crazy talk.
The camp is in Missouri, a 12-hour chartered bus ride that leaves a week from tomorrow from downtown Houston. My kids will be on separate buses, much to Jordan’s delight. Their bus bag should contain any electronic gear they may want, a journal, pen, Bible and a small flashlight. I’m a little nervous they will spend most of their Bible time explaining how Mommy’s not that into it or that they’ll come home on fire for Jesus, going door-to-door with my dad and stepmom every Saturday morning.
It doesn’t bother me that this is an extreme sports camp with Christian teachings. Jordan will be all over both aspects of it. I am kinda curious about the effects it will have on Jon Alex who tends to judge children’s church on snack quality. I’m sending them both with their New World Translation of the Holy Scripture just to see what happens.
Prompting additions to next year’s stuff not to bring list in comments…
Dude, I am so jealous. I WANT TO GO TO CAMP! lol
Girl, I was trying to pull my very loose strings to get you on Jordan’s bus. We’ll have to trust everything will be okay.
I loved bible camp as a kid–Lots of fellowship and stuff.
The only bad memory is when the horse assigned to me, bit my wee boobie and I had to show it to a camp counselor. Who happened to be a dude. And just now thinking about it, that was wrong.
Dead with joy is my new favorite saying this weekend.
I’d still be traumatized! You may borrow dead with joy. Use it unwisely.
Hope you enjoy every minute of your down time. Well, as much down time as can be had when there’s still a baby and a dog in the house.
And just like magic, Q appears to take the baby for the week. Next gone: the dog.