Good morning! ... I said good morning! ... When I said that in previous summers, 180 kids would shout "good morning" right back at me. Now I have 45 kids staring at me asking me why I keep yelling at them. It's not nearly as good for my ego. But then I beam them in the head with a big sponge ball and that brings my ego back up. You'd think they'd learn to just shout "good morning" at me. Stupid kids.
So yeah, it's another year of day camp. I had last summer off and I gotta say that I really missed the kids. Not so much the angry parents. Or the health inspector. Or the pink eye. But the kids (at least 30% of them), I sure missed. And this camp is so much smaller than the one I'm used to. I miss the complete chaos of 180 kids running around one basketball court with balls, hula hoops and tiny body parts flying everywhere. And Mike has got this camp run so efficiently that there is no chaos. This is no fun for me. I need the chaos. And I'm no longer the camp director. So I'm trying to figure out exactly how I fit into this camp. I kinda see myself as the camp's uncle. Like I'll go and play with the kids and talk to the counselors and stuff, but if anything really goes wrong, I just give them back to Mike. Here. This is your kid. You handle it. Mike on the other hand is pretty stressed out, or at least busy, as evident from his quite serious question he posed to me on the first day of camp last week...
"Dustin, is it still Monday?"
-Mr. Mike
Reminds me of when I turned to Ruchelle earlier this year and asked her if it was still 1998.
Making faces back at the kids,
Uncle Mr. Dustin.
Still Standing Right Here...
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