Ok, so yesterday we picked the boy up from a week of Camp Lutherwood.

See, those of you who have read this blog for awhile or know me personally, can already sense import of that sentence. Uh huh… not good.

We arrived just as the closing ceremonies were underway–and as I watched my child sing along in the group, I got the real impression the week had not gone well. Mr. Energy was dragging–and not in a good way. MOST people, after an intense week will be tired, but not my kid. Oh no, the more intense the encounter the more hyped he gets. He’s that big sucking sound in the room. If you are in a group and feel exhausted afterwards, it’s probably because my kid (or one of his kind) was there draining your energy like a brand new vampire. Dang extroverts.Instead of being over-joyed to see us, Boy Wonder just looked defeated. And caught. See, he knows that we are always going to ask for an account of the week. Or any event he attends. Ever hyper-vigilant are we. So, he knew he would have to come clean as to his behavior in the week. Uh huh… not good!

His counselor, who has to be all of 20,– don’t get me wrong I’ve got nothing against this age set except what to heck do they know about parenting–had that all too familiar glazed over look in his eyes as I asked him how the week went. “Hard,” he answered wearily.

Hard? WHAT? You meet me, the parent, after being entrusted with his safety for a week and your answer is HARD? Ha! TRY PARENTING! Oh no you don’t! You don’t meet me after a week of camp and look all weary and exhausted and, dare I say it, marytered. Humph! I don’t think so. You signed up for this gig and you are being paid!

See, here’s my thing–if my kid’s behaviour was so eggregious, then why is the first time I’m hearing about it when I pick him up? It’s not like you don’t have my email address since his father sent him email everyday the boy was at camp. And I know you have my phone number because I wrote it down numerous times on various forms. No, if my child’s behaviour is going to paint THAT face for you and cause you to be THAT traumatized, then pick up the phone and TELL ME.

After pressing and conversation it appears that my child was LOUD. Uh huh… not good. Now, I know what you are thining, dear readers, because I’m thinking it too! Camp. Camp is loud. Kid’s are loud. Match made in heaven. Evidently, not.

Now, before I go further in my tirade against imcompetentcy–and it is imcompetent to need help and not ask for it!–I will be completely honest. Boy Wonder is exceedingly bright–but his social skills leave much to be desired. We know this. We are ever hypervigilent because of it. And, it goes without saying that he does better in an environment when there is a clearly identified authority.Or, so we thought. Apparently, you MUST say this–because it is NOT assumed by powers that refuse to be at camp! The more kick-ass tough you are the better my kid behaves. He likes order and he likes control. We, his ever hyper-vigilant parents, forgot to inform his counselor of this. Uh oh, not good!

And his counselor? I’m guessing he was the most compliant child ever known to the universe. He is the picture of calm and quiet and easy-going. For the average child, he is the embodiment of comfort. He’s who you want to be shepherding your sweet sheep through the wiles of camp. If your child is a sweet sheep.

It’s just that my kid is a goat. And this is the rub. He needs a person in control, bossier than he is, and willing to make his life miserable (call his freakin’ parents, already) if need be. Someone, like… say, his MOTHER! While he would never admit that camp unnerved him, his behaviour said otherwise. In his anxiety, he regressed and acted out in ways we deem wholly irresponsible. Uh huh… NOT GOOD. However, he knows this. At dinner last night he summed it up like this, “You know mom, you have every right to be disappointed with my behaviour, I’m disappointed with me. I could have done so much better. I’m so used to having someone in charge. I forgot myself and I didn’t keep myself in check.” Oh, that his counselor could have been so observant!

The resulting effect is that Boy Wonder loved camp when it didn’t involve being solely with his cabin. He did tons of art, signed up and performed in the variety show, and tried all sorts of new things. His swimming counselor said he did beautifully in her sessions–her take on the whole thing (when IZ told her) was that boy energy is just that, boy energy. Other counselors we know from day camp said Boy Wonder did wonderfully at dinner and all-camp events–they were shocked that he had such a hard time with his cabin.

However, I can tell you why he had a hard time. This is where I go back to lamenting incompetency. Because while his counselor was busy being buddy to everyone else in his group–which is what those children needed–he wasn’t busy being what Boy Wonder needed. Instead, when the boy acted out he scolded and whined, but he never disciplined. And he NEVER looked at the circumstances that provoked the outlandish behaviour in the first place. Should my child have freaked out when a person took his picture? NO! But, when you’re nine and you are hugging a girl and someone snaps your photo and then laughs at you… well, you might freak out. It’s not OK that you did, but it didn’t happen without cause.

And as for the boy being too loud? It’s camp, get over it. It turns out that the boy kept getting louder because other kids were ignoring him. Sure, pick on Boy Wonder and tell him to stop yelling. It’s annoying and it’s not going to get kids to pay attention. But what about the first aggressors? When you’re nine, you might yell too, if when you start to talk you are ignored and people walk away from you as if you don’t count. It’s hard to be left out and treated like you aren’t important! It’s awful to be told that while everyone else gets to catch a crawdad, you have to sit by and just watch because you aren’t part of the group! Where was the counselor then?

So, this is my question to his camp–Your theme this week was “This is Love“– does the above sound like a description of the love of Christ to you? You challenged my child to share the love he learned about in camp this week. Is that really what you want? You asked him to share what he did and what he experienced and what he learned. You asked that he come back and he bring a friend. I’m guessing you wouldn’t want him to tell the whole truth–that he was excluded and left in the care of a completely indifferent counselor. I’m guessing his friends wouldn’t want to go–because, they are all goats too! You asked me, his parent, to NOT keep Camp Lutherwood a secret. Since I’m the compliant one in my family, I’m only too happy to indulge that request. I can sum it all up in four words… say them with me: Uh oh, NOT GOOD.