The Camper

My youngest bouncing baby boy is off at summer camp for the past week. 

The camp is very progressive and allows parents to log on to their website everyday where you can view photos of all the day's events and activities. You can also email your camper and your message of love and home is delivered every morning at mail call. 

Last year I was so pleased to see the boy in a rousing game of soccer - outside, enjoying the fresh air in the pouring down rain. Covered from head to toe with mud he was almost unrecognizable among the other 20 or so teenagers caked with all manner of goo. Ah, summer camp, good clean fun. 

I have been very diligent in emailing the boy every evening. News from home, funny little antidotes about what we're doing, how we miss his red hair and smiling face and once or twice a mere suggestion for him to call home. You know, just to check in. I even sent one from the dog ending it with a "you should call mom" not so subtle hint. Just one phone call... won't take but a few minutes.. it has been more than a week....

Imagine my delight when I received a postcard from the boy in the mail this very morning. 

This is the actual / factual contents of the postcard:

Front of card: that's my youngest in the back row in the green shirt. He and the other boys are members of the Owasa Tribe. 

The camp gives all the campers tribe names. How clever is that?

Don't they look like fine, upstanding young men? 

I especially like how one of them seems to be strangling another while the rest of the boys seem oblivious to the mayhem around them. 

Check out the boy in the back with the black t-shirt, on the end next to Zach.. he's probably thinking of his super high SAT scores and trying to decide between Harvard and Yale... ahem.

Oh, and don't you just love the expression on my son's face... can you just imagine he is thinking, "WTF".. only of course my son would never think that... ahem ahem. (click on the picture to enlarge so you can get a really good look at the faces...)

My child's message on the back of the postcard, in his very own best penmanship:

Dear Mother Dearest and Father James,

I am having a wicked, ghastly time at camp. My counselor's name is Ajax and he is from Europe and some other place I cannot pronounce.

I met a person named Omar and we became lifelong friends. My cabin is better than sleeping in the car and I get to sleep in the shower so that is great. 

We had our first meal in the dining hall and I must say the food was delicious, almost as terrific as bug repellent. 

Tomorrow we get to do our first activities and I have chosen sky diving and learning how to operate heavy machinery. I can't wait! 

When you get a chance, please send me an escape vehicle. I miss you and will see you soon.

Love, Zachy.

He really should have just phoned. 

PS. In honor of Julie & Julia the new movie starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams (it's really about my long-time heroine, Julia Child) I am dedicating the next few weeks to recipes from Julia Child's famous book (the book that started it all folks): How To Master The Art of French Cooking... 

Hold on to your spatulas it's going to be rip-roaring food fest! In the immortal words of Julia Child, BON APPETITE!