Camp 2015: The special little children
How I've neglected to mention some of them before, I'm not sure. Repressed memories, possibly.
As usual, we had a number of campers who were...interesting, to say the least. A number of them had been there before, even if they hadn't been there for a couple years, so it's always nice when I know their names. And of the new ones, there are always things that make certain kids stand out so that it's easy to know who they are. The little red-haired flute player, for example. She would. not. stop. talking. Even in her audition, she was chattery. Sweetie, just play the part. Others are younger siblings of people I know from camp, or even taught--one little girl I first met as an infant when I taught her brother way back in the day. And, we're on the second generation of campers, which is just so amazing to me. I actually got pictures of a couple of girls whose parents or aunts were people who were campers with me. One girl, her grandmother was the person who hand wrote the very first program we ever had, for the second year. (The directors apparently forgot to make a program that first year, so aside from the three of us, the other director who passed away, and the other senior counselor, we can't confirm who all was there.) Now that was super-cute--the girl's brother came over and went, yeah, that's her handwriting! And the girl went, she still signs her name with that smiley face! Heh. That was pretty awesome. And the grandmother even came to the concert, and I hugged her and told her that that was my favorite program because it showed that I was first chair in B Band that year. :) Every other program we've had has had everyone's names in alphabetical order. Well, roughly. And I remember that camp mom because she did crafts with us. It was nice to see her again.
We had at least one pair of twins, but they were a different pair than last year, and our first set of triplets! One of them cut her hand at the beach and I walked her to the nurse, and that's when I found out they weren't identical--they all have different eye colors. One is blue, one is brown, and one is hazel. I was walking with the blue-eyed triplet. I didn't see too much of those girls so it's not like it was totally obvious that we had triplets, too.
We always have our share of siblings--heck, just within the counselors, we had four pairs of siblings, and several had younger siblings who were campers. One set of special siblings among the campers were our gluten-free girls. They could not eat almost anything served at camp and had to bring a bunch of food from home. And, to avoid cross-contamination, they generally had to be served first. One of the cooks was their special server to try to make sure their food was okay. It was kind of a pain. I don't think the directors want to do that again, even though the girls were overall great to have around. There was one other girl who had an allergy to dairy and eggs who would also come and eat first; they began to be known as the early eaters, and the rest of the girls would call for them when I'd come to the door to get them before meals. (The only other issue we had was with peanut butter, where we had one boy and one other girl who had to eat elsewhere, but as we have counselors--siblings--who also can't eat peanut butter, they go out and sit with them at the nearby pavilion. The boy camper has been coming for years so they're all used to it.) Even with a smaller camp, it's hard to make multiple meals and to make sure nothing makes someone sick. That's probably why the gluten-free sisters would be asked not to come back, because it's difficult to make it work and keep them safe. However, as the resident somewhat-dairy-free staff member, I got to "benefit" from something they didn't like. Friday lunch was pizza. I did grab a slice of the regular pizza because I felt like it, but back in the kitchen, when I went looking for a second piece, I came across two pizza-free pizzas on the counter. What--they were dairy-free, soy-free, gluten-free, and apparently taste-free to the girls, because only one quarter of one pizza was gone. I was allowed to have some. Well, I've had worse; it wasn't too bad. I think I ended up having two of the slices, or maybe one full quarter but I'd halved it to try it. I don't recall. The cook was going, oh, you can take it home! Yeah...no. I mean, don't forget, I have a two-hour drive home, plus whatever stops we'd be making. It was left in the fridge for me, but I neglected to take it with. Yeah, I'd rather have the taffy. There was something else the cook had wanted me to take home but when I reminded her about my ride she understood why I wouldn't take it.
We had kids who were special in another way. I mentioned we had a boy counselor who did not prove himself. Well, his camper counterparts were equally as special. I don't know what it is when we have eighth-grade boys--we had just one last year, and he was quiet--but when you get enough of them together, magic happens. And by magic, I mean trouble. And I don't think it was anything really horrific, but one of the main things they did was to be stupid near a steep hill, basically rolling down it and playing leapfrog and other things that could well lead to a trip to the hospital. Yeah, no. So they got to clean things, including these ancient chairs that are so old and rusty that about all they're good for is use as a punishment. A little later in the week, I think they were screwing around on the scary hike and got in trouble again; I think I mentioned camp wine, and the new mom tossing and stomping grapes one night; it was for their benefit. After that I think they cooled it a bit, but my lord. Use your brains, boys.
And then it's never camp unless there's girl drama. Even better when the stars of this year's drama are the same as last year's. Luckily (?) it wasn't exactly between them, but each one separately. One girl, in the middle of the week, stopped eating. She said she wasn't feeling well one morning and skipped breakfast. She's old enough that one meal wouldn't hurt her, and she did eat *something* at the rest of the meals, although brownies and pudding don't really constitute much. So, the next breakfast, I made her eat something, and the counselors watching her table even had her go back and get a second bowl of cereal because she'd shared the first one with her table. After that, things were better, but still...you don't want to see an adolescent girl do that. I even mentioned it to Mr. C to perhaps discuss with her parents, in case this isn't the first time that's happened. Her friend, who was her enemy at one point last year, had her own issues. Hmm, how to put this delicately... Well, let's just say she became a woman at camp this year. However, not having dealt with such things before, apparently she was unable to properly deal with the, er, accouterments that come along with such things. I went into the girls' dorm on Friday morning and was told there was a situation in the bathroom, in a particular stall. The first five stalls I checked, normal. That last stall? Um, let's just say that certain things do not belong on the floor...or stuck to the walls. Ew. EW. So guess who had to make an announcement at breakfast on how to properly dispose of these items? (This is SO above my pay grade. Stupid director status.) Naturally, that made all the little boys laugh...until one of my oldest counselors grabbed the microphone away from me and went, this is not a joke, these are bodily fluids; you need to dispose of things properly. I don't know if it shamed the person into doing anything about it--and, in fact, she went home early for a family thing*--but a few people volunteered to clean up the mess and were bribed with candy, so at least the counselors didn't have to deal with it, as that's REALLY above their pay grade. Now, we do, in fact, have a cleaning crew that supposedly goes into the bathrooms daily while we're in rehearsal, but apparently removing such items was above THEIR pay grade. Sigh. And part of the reason the counselors think it was our new little woman was because the items found on the floor were what the nurse handed out, and clearly this girl didn't come with anything. So, yeah. And, well, after she left, we didn't have any more problems. Coincidence? Hmm.
*The camper's mom and aunt had gone to camp with me, both as campers and counselors. The aunt was getting married on Saturday, and the camper and her sister had a choice: Either you stay at camp and miss the wedding, or you go to the wedding and miss the concert. The girls had to agree to whichever choice. Wedding it is! Mr. C usually makes a big deal about the campers staying through to the end, but considering he knew the mom and the aunt...and their mom is the principal at one of his schools...he'll make an exception. This also led to a funny part when the dad came to pick them up. I happened to be over there and I greeted him; the girls were in sectionals at the time. I let him go on up to start loading luggage in the van, but before that we talked for a little while, and at one point (in discussing how normally the campers wouldn't be allowed to leave) he went, yeah, he tells my wife that she's his favorite former camper. ...Ah! Like a stab to the heart. He was all, sorry! Well, Mr. C only has to deal with me a few times a year; he deals with her for three seasons. Okay, I guess I can accept that. Heh.
As usual, we had a number of campers who were...interesting, to say the least. A number of them had been there before, even if they hadn't been there for a couple years, so it's always nice when I know their names. And of the new ones, there are always things that make certain kids stand out so that it's easy to know who they are. The little red-haired flute player, for example. She would. not. stop. talking. Even in her audition, she was chattery. Sweetie, just play the part. Others are younger siblings of people I know from camp, or even taught--one little girl I first met as an infant when I taught her brother way back in the day. And, we're on the second generation of campers, which is just so amazing to me. I actually got pictures of a couple of girls whose parents or aunts were people who were campers with me. One girl, her grandmother was the person who hand wrote the very first program we ever had, for the second year. (The directors apparently forgot to make a program that first year, so aside from the three of us, the other director who passed away, and the other senior counselor, we can't confirm who all was there.) Now that was super-cute--the girl's brother came over and went, yeah, that's her handwriting! And the girl went, she still signs her name with that smiley face! Heh. That was pretty awesome. And the grandmother even came to the concert, and I hugged her and told her that that was my favorite program because it showed that I was first chair in B Band that year. :) Every other program we've had has had everyone's names in alphabetical order. Well, roughly. And I remember that camp mom because she did crafts with us. It was nice to see her again.
We had at least one pair of twins, but they were a different pair than last year, and our first set of triplets! One of them cut her hand at the beach and I walked her to the nurse, and that's when I found out they weren't identical--they all have different eye colors. One is blue, one is brown, and one is hazel. I was walking with the blue-eyed triplet. I didn't see too much of those girls so it's not like it was totally obvious that we had triplets, too.
We always have our share of siblings--heck, just within the counselors, we had four pairs of siblings, and several had younger siblings who were campers. One set of special siblings among the campers were our gluten-free girls. They could not eat almost anything served at camp and had to bring a bunch of food from home. And, to avoid cross-contamination, they generally had to be served first. One of the cooks was their special server to try to make sure their food was okay. It was kind of a pain. I don't think the directors want to do that again, even though the girls were overall great to have around. There was one other girl who had an allergy to dairy and eggs who would also come and eat first; they began to be known as the early eaters, and the rest of the girls would call for them when I'd come to the door to get them before meals. (The only other issue we had was with peanut butter, where we had one boy and one other girl who had to eat elsewhere, but as we have counselors--siblings--who also can't eat peanut butter, they go out and sit with them at the nearby pavilion. The boy camper has been coming for years so they're all used to it.) Even with a smaller camp, it's hard to make multiple meals and to make sure nothing makes someone sick. That's probably why the gluten-free sisters would be asked not to come back, because it's difficult to make it work and keep them safe. However, as the resident somewhat-dairy-free staff member, I got to "benefit" from something they didn't like. Friday lunch was pizza. I did grab a slice of the regular pizza because I felt like it, but back in the kitchen, when I went looking for a second piece, I came across two pizza-free pizzas on the counter. What--they were dairy-free, soy-free, gluten-free, and apparently taste-free to the girls, because only one quarter of one pizza was gone. I was allowed to have some. Well, I've had worse; it wasn't too bad. I think I ended up having two of the slices, or maybe one full quarter but I'd halved it to try it. I don't recall. The cook was going, oh, you can take it home! Yeah...no. I mean, don't forget, I have a two-hour drive home, plus whatever stops we'd be making. It was left in the fridge for me, but I neglected to take it with. Yeah, I'd rather have the taffy. There was something else the cook had wanted me to take home but when I reminded her about my ride she understood why I wouldn't take it.
We had kids who were special in another way. I mentioned we had a boy counselor who did not prove himself. Well, his camper counterparts were equally as special. I don't know what it is when we have eighth-grade boys--we had just one last year, and he was quiet--but when you get enough of them together, magic happens. And by magic, I mean trouble. And I don't think it was anything really horrific, but one of the main things they did was to be stupid near a steep hill, basically rolling down it and playing leapfrog and other things that could well lead to a trip to the hospital. Yeah, no. So they got to clean things, including these ancient chairs that are so old and rusty that about all they're good for is use as a punishment. A little later in the week, I think they were screwing around on the scary hike and got in trouble again; I think I mentioned camp wine, and the new mom tossing and stomping grapes one night; it was for their benefit. After that I think they cooled it a bit, but my lord. Use your brains, boys.
And then it's never camp unless there's girl drama. Even better when the stars of this year's drama are the same as last year's. Luckily (?) it wasn't exactly between them, but each one separately. One girl, in the middle of the week, stopped eating. She said she wasn't feeling well one morning and skipped breakfast. She's old enough that one meal wouldn't hurt her, and she did eat *something* at the rest of the meals, although brownies and pudding don't really constitute much. So, the next breakfast, I made her eat something, and the counselors watching her table even had her go back and get a second bowl of cereal because she'd shared the first one with her table. After that, things were better, but still...you don't want to see an adolescent girl do that. I even mentioned it to Mr. C to perhaps discuss with her parents, in case this isn't the first time that's happened. Her friend, who was her enemy at one point last year, had her own issues. Hmm, how to put this delicately... Well, let's just say she became a woman at camp this year. However, not having dealt with such things before, apparently she was unable to properly deal with the, er, accouterments that come along with such things. I went into the girls' dorm on Friday morning and was told there was a situation in the bathroom, in a particular stall. The first five stalls I checked, normal. That last stall? Um, let's just say that certain things do not belong on the floor...or stuck to the walls. Ew. EW. So guess who had to make an announcement at breakfast on how to properly dispose of these items? (This is SO above my pay grade. Stupid director status.) Naturally, that made all the little boys laugh...until one of my oldest counselors grabbed the microphone away from me and went, this is not a joke, these are bodily fluids; you need to dispose of things properly. I don't know if it shamed the person into doing anything about it--and, in fact, she went home early for a family thing*--but a few people volunteered to clean up the mess and were bribed with candy, so at least the counselors didn't have to deal with it, as that's REALLY above their pay grade. Now, we do, in fact, have a cleaning crew that supposedly goes into the bathrooms daily while we're in rehearsal, but apparently removing such items was above THEIR pay grade. Sigh. And part of the reason the counselors think it was our new little woman was because the items found on the floor were what the nurse handed out, and clearly this girl didn't come with anything. So, yeah. And, well, after she left, we didn't have any more problems. Coincidence? Hmm.
*The camper's mom and aunt had gone to camp with me, both as campers and counselors. The aunt was getting married on Saturday, and the camper and her sister had a choice: Either you stay at camp and miss the wedding, or you go to the wedding and miss the concert. The girls had to agree to whichever choice. Wedding it is! Mr. C usually makes a big deal about the campers staying through to the end, but considering he knew the mom and the aunt...and their mom is the principal at one of his schools...he'll make an exception. This also led to a funny part when the dad came to pick them up. I happened to be over there and I greeted him; the girls were in sectionals at the time. I let him go on up to start loading luggage in the van, but before that we talked for a little while, and at one point (in discussing how normally the campers wouldn't be allowed to leave) he went, yeah, he tells my wife that she's his favorite former camper. ...Ah! Like a stab to the heart. He was all, sorry! Well, Mr. C only has to deal with me a few times a year; he deals with her for three seasons. Okay, I guess I can accept that. Heh.