Boys Will Be Boys, Especially at Camp: A Re-Post

Mr. Sociable, aka Spaz, has spent the last four days at church camp, a place he dearly loves. This is his fifth year and his last as a camper; next year he will be a worker, which will probably be just as much fun and is quite a bit easier on Mom & Dad's wallet. (Although having said that, I should mention that Spaz earned almost all of his $225 camp fee this year doing yardwork, collecting pop cans, helping unload trucks, and participating in various other work opps set up by his youth leader, as well as doing some yardwork for his grandparents. Total outlay from Mom & Dad's wallet: $46. Go, Spaz!)



Miss Homebody, aka Fuzz, tried camp two years ago and did not exactly dearly love it, so she has been home as usual and enjoying the relative peace and quiet along with some extra attention. Among other things, she and I have done small-town window shopping, errands, lunch out with Dad & Biz, and three straight nights of Lord of the Rings movies (her first time watching and only my second). Today, our last full Spaz-less day, we took a bike ride and cleaned & organized her desk, and we'll soon be heading out to her Favorite Eating Out Place in the Whole World, better known on this blog as Pahookey Bread.


But before we head out, I offer you this: a story from a blog post written in June of 2007, shortly after Spaz' second year of camp. I consider it well worth a re-post. Enjoy!




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Spaz was at church camp this past week; it was his second year. All in all, he had a great time, and his counselors, despite spending 4 days with a bunch of 9-to-11-year-old boys, seemed to have most of their sanity still intact.


While helping him pack for camp, I’d kept in mind that it always helps Spaz if things are kept simple. (I also make sure HE is the one who actually puts everything in the suitcase, in hopes that it will help him remember what he has & where it is.) So he & I packed "clothing rolls"-- socks, underwear, T-shirt & shorts rolled up and secured with a large file-size rubberband. (Socks are not normally a staple around our house in the summer, but state law mandates that kids at camps wear socks and close-toed shoes.) One roll for each day, plus one extra. A couple 'pajama' rolls, too (which of course, since he is 11, are not actually pajamas, but rather T-shirts and knit shorts that he uses specifically as sleepwear). He thought this was great. I figured that, like last year, he'd come back with a couple rolls yet unworn, but it never hurts to be on the safe side.


Post-camp conversation at the ice-cream shop:


Mom (observing Spaz' filthy camp T-shirt, swimsuit, and lack of state-mandated socks): So, Spaz, how many of the clothes we packed did you actually wear?


Spaz: Um, what I came in. Plus this shirt they gave me. And I wore my swimsuit all the time.


Mom: Spaz!!! Didn't you put on clean clothes after showers?


Spaz: ShowER, you mean. I just put my swimsuit back on. It was clean from the pool.


Mom: You didn't by any chance wear your pajama shirts & shorts to bed?


Spaz: The first night I did.


Mom (not really wanting to know): And then...?


Spaz: I told you, I wore my swimsuit the whole time.


Mom: Ooo-kay. And did you, perchance, use your toothbrush?


Spaz: Yup! Once.


Alrighty, then.


Though not apparent at camp & the ice-cream store, the smell became quite noticeable upon our arrival home, and he was sent almost immediately to the shower.


At least I don't have a ton of laundry to do.

That was three years ago, when Spaz was a little boy of eleven-going-on-twelve. For the last couple of years, I think the conversation could have been more or less the same. This year, however, as he approaches his 15th birthday, he has suddenly taken more interest in such odd and foreign activities as showering, hair-combing, and teeth-brushing. Now I know that the inclination toward such activities may wane a bit in an environment such as camp, but then again, at camp there are girls. I'm thinking --hoping-- that this year's post-camp conversation might be just a little different, and that there might actually be more dirty clothes than clean ones in the duffle bag tomorrow.


I guess we'll see.