Tarps, Mudslides, and Pudding Races
Anna has been at day camp this week. It's the kind of day camp where the kids wear old clothes and shoes, get super dirty and wet. In spite of weather in the 80s, they wear long pants to protect them from bug bites.
In the morning, when we arrive in the parking lot, kids are standing next to their cars with arms splayed out while their parents spray them down with sunscreen and top it off with a thick layer of insect repellent.
On Monday morning, Anna's counselor suggested that I have a tarp in the car when I picked her up in the afternoon. This threw me a little. I already knew to have some towels and a change of clothes, but a tarp? He may have been joking, and I'm glad I didn't have this conversation in French or it would have sent me to a frantic search of a dictionary, and I would have worried all day that all the other French parents would have a tarp, and my child would be the only without. That poor American kid.
This is an outdoor/nature camp that along with camp songs and fires and hikes includes activities like The Mud Slide and The Pudding Race. I was in suspense about the pudding race. Parents were to provide a box of instant pudding at the beginning of the week, and I wasn't sure what to make of putting the words pudding and race together. Would the children race barefoot through pudding? Slide through it? Propel other objects through it? I was intrigued.
Anna's group had their turn yesterday.
Here's what they do at the pudding race: the children lay down, put their hands behind their backs, and then slurp up as much pudding as they can. I'm thinking this wouldn't be a bad thing if it was chocolate pudding, but it's a mixture of all the puddings. Nasty. It's actually the only activity this week that Anna was less than enthusiastic about. She said it gave her a head-ache. Fair enough.
This leads my thoughts back to France though. I can imagine no scenario in which I would drop my child off and be told (even in jest) they will be such a mess at the end of the day that a tarp will be required to protect my car's upholstery. And I just cannot in my wildest imagination picture French kids laying down, hands behind backs, and slurping up chocolate mousse. Ever. I think my French friends who are mothers would be mortified at this. And, most of the kids didn't wear hats this week. French kids always wear caps for camps or school outings. Always.
Last night, Anna brought home a stick and decorated it because today she is not allowed to talk for most of the day. As an eleven year old, she will be working hard to accomplish tasks, like building a fire, so she can earn her dog tag. She practiced this yesterday, though we could talk to her if we held her stick.
Camp finishes with a PowWow this afternoon. Then I'll be picking up my wet, dirty, smoky kid who, if all went well, will be proudly wearing her dog tag.
In the morning, when we arrive in the parking lot, kids are standing next to their cars with arms splayed out while their parents spray them down with sunscreen and top it off with a thick layer of insect repellent.
On Monday morning, Anna's counselor suggested that I have a tarp in the car when I picked her up in the afternoon. This threw me a little. I already knew to have some towels and a change of clothes, but a tarp? He may have been joking, and I'm glad I didn't have this conversation in French or it would have sent me to a frantic search of a dictionary, and I would have worried all day that all the other French parents would have a tarp, and my child would be the only without. That poor American kid.
This is an outdoor/nature camp that along with camp songs and fires and hikes includes activities like The Mud Slide and The Pudding Race. I was in suspense about the pudding race. Parents were to provide a box of instant pudding at the beginning of the week, and I wasn't sure what to make of putting the words pudding and race together. Would the children race barefoot through pudding? Slide through it? Propel other objects through it? I was intrigued.
Anna's group had their turn yesterday.
Here's what they do at the pudding race: the children lay down, put their hands behind their backs, and then slurp up as much pudding as they can. I'm thinking this wouldn't be a bad thing if it was chocolate pudding, but it's a mixture of all the puddings. Nasty. It's actually the only activity this week that Anna was less than enthusiastic about. She said it gave her a head-ache. Fair enough.
This leads my thoughts back to France though. I can imagine no scenario in which I would drop my child off and be told (even in jest) they will be such a mess at the end of the day that a tarp will be required to protect my car's upholstery. And I just cannot in my wildest imagination picture French kids laying down, hands behind backs, and slurping up chocolate mousse. Ever. I think my French friends who are mothers would be mortified at this. And, most of the kids didn't wear hats this week. French kids always wear caps for camps or school outings. Always.
Last night, Anna brought home a stick and decorated it because today she is not allowed to talk for most of the day. As an eleven year old, she will be working hard to accomplish tasks, like building a fire, so she can earn her dog tag. She practiced this yesterday, though we could talk to her if we held her stick.
Camp finishes with a PowWow this afternoon. Then I'll be picking up my wet, dirty, smoky kid who, if all went well, will be proudly wearing her dog tag.