Camp is over. I got my baby back. All is right with the world. The End.
Except, that’s not how it really happened. Friday was the last day of camp- yay! I was super excited to go pick up my bundle of joy from the church and hear about all the cool things I know he did while he was there. I knew he’d be tired; I mean last year when I picked him up he slept for three hours, woke up for two, and then slept 12 hours again that night. When he gets really tired and isn’t willing to admit it, he cries. At everything. (Just like his mama.) So after Elijah told me how tired he wasn’t, roughly five minutes later he began crying in a game of kickball with his friend because of something so ridiculous my mind refuses to even try to remember. So, I took him home to nap, to which he promptly fell ‘not’ asleep in about 27 seconds. The next two days were slightly, um fun, with him going back and forth between crying and sulking, and me going back and forth between being happy he was home and not. I mean, not that I don’t want my child home, but clearly I had misguided visions of sugar plums dancing around in my head before he came home. And I didn’t see any part of any sugar plums at my house.
I realize that my expectations of him were a bit high; I mean what 10-year-old boy wants to come back to his mother after five days of almost non-stop play with nothing but boys? All I do is nag him to pick up his underwear from the middle of the floor, and make him go back and turn the lights off in the room he left six hours ago. My needs to have Elijah back home were purely selfish in that I was bored without him, and didn’t have anyone to tell what to do 🙂 I sort of glossed over the fact that he needs his re-adjustment time back into civilization, just like any normal person does after a vacation. But it still hurts my heart a tiny bit to think he wasn’t as excited to come home as I was to have him come home.