Suddenly, everything they do is for "the last time for a long time." Like, the last time they'll take the bus to school, or order in Chinese for dinner, or whine about how there's no good Chinese food on the Upper West Side anymore. It all makes me misty eyed, or worse. Yesterday, I burst into tears when someone asked me what the kids were doing this summer. And this morning, I woke up at 5am and went into the living room to look at their baby pictures.
I went to sleepaway camp when I was their age - and loved it. I went back year after year for ages. I still have camp friends that I treasure and adore. I know that my children will love camp as much as I did. They are going to make lifelong friends, enjoy the mountains, and a lake, and the camaraderie that's practically exclusive to being at camp. They'll make macrame bracelets, and pottery, and learn to waterski. They'll get ravaged by mosquitoes and filthy beyond belief. They'll eat awful food. They'll love it.