Updated: Aug. 21, 2023
Originally Published: June 17, 2012
Just two weeks ago, I waved goodbye to my son, Max, as he boarded a bus headed for a two-month adventure at overnight camp. If I’m being honest, the decision to send him was a bit of a mixed bag for both of us. He was excited at first, but as the departure date loomed, he expressed second thoughts. I found myself questioning whether this was the right move. And while it might be a fantastic experience for him, I can’t shake my dislike for overnight camp. Here’s why:
1. The Photo Drought
Max seems to possess a unique talent for evading the camp photographer, much like he avoids cleaning his room. Each day, I sift through nearly 1,500 pictures, and spotting his face feels like finding Waldo in a sea of stripes.
2. The Impact of Sparse Photos
With so few images to go by, I scrutinize the ones I do have like they’re evidence in a crime scene. While others might see him in a neat uniform, I can’t help but think, “Is he not eating? Why isn’t there a ketchup stain on his shirt?” What if he hasn’t changed clothes in days?
3. The Camp Letters
Max can solve complex math equations but apparently struggles with the basics of letter writing. I had to send him a diagram illustrating how to address an envelope properly. So far, I’ve received a few letters: one requesting his tennis racket, another mentioning bad weather (both signed just “Max,” no love for mom), and the last one complaining about a bunkmate, which was oddly signed “Sincerely, Max Carter.”
4. The Letters I Write
Crafting letters to your camper is quite the challenge. You must avoid mentioning life back home to prevent homesickness. Instead, I end up bombarding him with questions based on the few photos I’ve seen: “Did you win any events in the camp Olympics? What’s your counselor’s name? Who’s your bunkmate? Please send more pictures so I can stop asking these questions!” It feels eerily similar to being a celebrity stalker, except my “target” might just toss my letters aside upon noticing the absence of baseball cards.
5. Oh, Visiting Day
Ah, Visiting Day—how I dread it. I miss Max and yearn to see him, yet it seems cruel to schedule a visit just as the kids begin to settle in and overcome homesickness. The moment I pull away, it feels like all their progress goes down the drain, alongside the remnants of the candy basket I brought. I can practically picture a counselor prying Max off our car as we drive away. If you happen to know any kids with chicken pox, please send them my way; I could use a non-threatening excuse to skip that emotional rollercoaster.
6. The Gaping Hole of His Absence
This past spring, I often found myself wishing for a break from Max’s antics. Little did I know how quiet the house would be without him (and without his playful bickering with his sister). Each time I pass his room and notice his perfectly made bed, I’m hit with how much I genuinely miss his delightful chaos.
But deep down, I recognize this was the right choice for Max. The snapshots show a happy kid, confidently trying new sports, making friends, and enthusiastically joining camp cheers. He confronted his fear of being away from home and emerged loving it.
Maybe, just maybe, overnight camp isn’t so bad after all.