A couple of years back—though in kid years, it feels like a lifetime—my partner Jake and I had a delightful Sunday tradition. Every week, we’d hire a babysitter to look after our then 3-year-old daughter, Lily, from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. Those three hours were our little escape: we’d indulge in brunch, stroll through our Brooklyn neighborhood hand-in-hand, play Frisbee with our dog, and most importantly, reconnect after a week of juggling work and family responsibilities.
Each Sunday was like a mini date, culminating in a blissful afternoon back at home. But then came the day Lily decided she was too grown-up for naps, and just like that, our routine was tossed out the window.
Fast forward a few years, and Lily is now 5 years old and in kindergarten. Jake and I are both freelancing from home, squeezing in work between her 2:45 p.m. dismissal. We don’t have a lot of extra cash, but we cherish the time spent with Lily—unless school is out, then it becomes a bit of a scramble.
With spring break approaching, dread loomed over us. We couldn’t afford a family getaway, and our usual sitters were all tied up. Just when we thought we were in for a week of chaos, an email popped up from Lily’s school: they were offering a spring break camp! The excitement among the other parents was palpable, with moms exchanging messages about which days they were signing up. “Ella’s doing Zoo Tuesday, Bowling Thursday, and Movie Friday!” one mom exclaimed. I thought we could manage at least two days.
Lily chose Arts & Crafts Wednesday, which promised loads of creativity, a trip to the playground, and planting in the school’s garden. But by the time I signed up, Bowling Thursday was already full. Still, I happily forked over $90 for Wednesday, ensuring Lily would have one day of fun.
That’s when it hit me—Jake and I deserved a fun day, too! So, I declared it Foreplay Day Date and Sex Wednesday.
The first two days of break came and went, and we were finally ready for camp. But upon arriving, things felt… off. The entrance was open, but there were no signs directing us or confirming the camp’s existence.
Jake chuckled, “Do you think we’re in the wrong place?”
“I can’t be,” I replied, as another confused dad and child emerged from a side door. We followed the sounds of children to the cafeteria, where an unfamiliar woman handed us a clipboard for sign-in before vanishing.
“Shouldn’t there be a counselor?” Jake whispered.
“Maybe one of those adults back there?” I suggested, glancing at the few scattered grown-ups who seemed less interested in the kids and more in their phones.
In front of us were four activity stations: crayons, sticks and marshmallows, Legos, and dolls. I silently prayed to my agnostic god: Please let this not be the entire camp setup.
With forced enthusiasm, we encouraged Lily to draw. She plopped down, and we hugged her goodbye, slipping out of the cafeteria unnoticed.
Once outside, I sighed, “That was so underwhelming.”
Jake took my hand. “Lily will be fine.”
“You do realize any random person could stroll in and take a kid without anyone noticing, right?”
“Hey, we’ve sacrificed enough for her to take one for the team. Trust me.”
And just like that, we shook off our guilt and plunged into our day date. We wandered, grabbed breakfast, and popped open the prosecco we’d set aside for the occasion.
As time flew by, we suddenly realized it was time to pick Lily up. At least we knew where to go this time.
Lily ran to us, squealing, “Mommy! Daddy!” We enveloped her in a hug. Before we left, she waved goodbye to Ava, a new friend she’d met.
“So, how was it?” I asked, eager for details.
She let out a dramatic sigh. “It wasn’t that fun.”
“Oh no,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Why not?”
“Well, we didn’t get to plant anything or do arts and crafts.”
“Did you at least go to the playground?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, but it just felt like a really, really long day.”
My heart sank as I mentally drafted a complaint email for a refund. But by dinnertime, Lily had bounced back, and I figured the school still deserved the money, given its overall excellence.
Today marks the start of Lily’s summer break—eight weeks of freedom. But this time, she’s going to camp for July. It’s her first time, and I know she’ll love it—not just because it’s not in that dreary cafeteria, but because we attended their open house, and it was super cool.
Next spring break, when first grade rolls around, Lily will still go to the school camp, but with a few tweaks:
- I’ll sign her up faster than a hot knife through butter.
- I’ll ensure she only picks field trip days.
- I’ll buy two bottles of prosecco instead of one.
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Summary:
In this humorous recount of a couple’s daring attempt to reclaim some adult time, they navigate the ups and downs of arranging childcare for their daughter during spring break, only to discover that their plans don’t quite unfold as expected. With a mix of guilt and laughter, they learn to adapt to parenting’s challenges while still finding moments of joy.