I kind of took yesterday off. I was glad to see my kids, they were glad to see me, but after only five hours of sleep (on my part), and general immaturity (on their part) we were content to just hang out and put Camp Stimey on hold.
See, this week is supposed to be sports week, and I have a list of no less than five different sports we were going to explore. And then I woke up this morning, realized I was still tired, and decided that instead of Camp Sports, I was going to run Camp Lazy.
And then my perky friend L, she who inspired Camp Stimey, called me at 8:20. She’d already been on a walk and done some gardening. And she wanted to meet me at the park at 9 to play soccer with our kids.
So I put the kids in sneakers, hunted down a couple of soccer balls and a bottle of water and we plodded out the door. (Okay, I plodded. The kids ran. Stupid energy of youth.)
Our plan was to put the kids through soccer drills and be organized and coach-like and stuff, but Sam posted himself at one goal and Jack started walking aaaaallllllllll the way down the regulation soccer field to the other goal to begin his offensive.
So we gave up and just chased balls around.
And then I witnessed one of the ways Jack and I are really, really different. I would honestly do just about anything to keep dry dirt off of my hands. It’s one of my sensory things. Jack on the other hand…
By 9:30 even perky friend L was tired and hot. So we went to her house to play in the sprinkler/wash off our dirty children. And then the temperature immediately dropped ten degrees and it started to rain.
And thus ended Camp Soccer.
And thus began Camp Dancing in the Rain.
Which my children did all the way home, naked but for their swimsuits. I finally convinced them to come inside once branches started dropping off my trees into the driveway.
And then I commenced Camp Kill the Next Nine Hours Until Daddy Comes Home Because We Did Too Much Too Early.