Well one week worth of packing and running around hunting for labels for my daughter’s belongings and Brownie camp appears to have gone smashingly. We dropped my seven-year-old off at Brownie Camp Friday night together. There’s a small camp site that the Brownie camp uses every year just outside London. We gave her the big family send off.
Laugh if you must, but it’s the first time she’s ever even slept over anywhere. So as big a deal as it was for Payton, it was an even bigger deal for me, her Mom, the one who tucks her in and gives her story time and back scratches before bed.
Anyways despite my last minute what’s our phone number drills and hugs and nerves, I’ve not heard even a peep from Brownie camp. Part happy. Part sad. Like the first time she started walking. You teach them to start to walk and talk and then they start walking away from you and you wonder why you ever taught them that skill in the first place.
I am of course happy she is so comfortable and confident at seven that she can stay at camp with a group of friends and not be completely homesick. At that age I would have been despondent to have even slept overnight at a friend’s house. Thanks to the powers that be for a child who is not a shrinking violet. Anyways I’m off to go enjoy quiet time and maybe spend a couple of minutes in her bedroom wondering where seven years has gone.