A few weeks ago I dropped my son off at camp for a week of recreational adventure. Believe me when I tell you he wasn’t happy about it. For the last two months — from the initial camp deposit to the final payment — he’s gone on and on (and on) about how much he didn’t want to go.
His reasons were plentiful:
I’m not outdoorsy.
I don’t know anybody.
Camping is stupid.
I just don’t want to go.
Somebody got the plague at Yellowstone. You know, THE BLACK DEATH. See, Mom? Camping.
And then there’s Lyme disease, and that’s a really big deal.
I asked my friends if they think it’s mean that you’re making me go. They all said yes.
And I didn’t care because I knew better. [read more…]