“We had better get going up for lunch!” I told Himself.
“Ya. I’m starvilated! Let’s haul these kids outta the water.” Himself agreed as we both stood and struggled to insert out wet feet into our shoes.
“Come on guys. Let’s go eat. Dad is seriously hungry.” I called out to the kids. They had ventured into the shallow water and the bottoms of their shorts were wet. Their bottoms were sandy. They looked a hot mess. Oh well, I sighed inwardly, but Himself did not.
“Oh Lord!” Himself stopped. “Can they eat lunch like that?”
“It’s camp, dude. Let it ride. We will just have them wash their hands. It would be bad form for the nurse’s family to have dirty hands. Clean hands and it will allllll be good.” I singsonged.
“All about priorities I suppose.” Himself said resignedly.
“Priorities, and the fact that I don’t want to hump up all those stairs for a change of clothes for what purpose?”
“I see your point.” Himself considered. “Schlepping around this place does get exhausting.”
The kids had gotten their sandals on and we all started towards the exit. We bid farewell to Carrie. Josie was now swimming laps for her mum.
We detoured to the wash hut and we all thoroughly scrubbed our hands. At the top of the hill, lunch was in full force. We had managed to miss the traffic jam at the buffet as there were only four people in line. We each grabbed plates and cutlery and started down the line. Burgers, hot dogs, tossed green salad, carrot and celery sticks, and orange slices were on the menu. At the end of the picnic tables were four large coolers with, or course, the juice of indeterminate flavor. We grabbed what we wanted and the girls managed to find a spot under the canopy of the maple trees on the south side of the main house. We quietly ate our lunch crossed legged in the shade.
The highlight of lunch was eavesdropping upon the conversation going on beside us. The camper, Stewart from the Deer Hut, was regaling his parents with colorful stories of his mates in his hut, the antics of the counselors, and his various instructions. He told them about sock wrestling in the middle of the night, the day they stole all of Bobbo’s underwear and tried to feed them to a raccoon, the pillow raid on the Rock Hut, making a picture frame with twigs, learning how to T rescue a canoe, and how many times he had reached the roof on the climbing wall. It was all enormously entertaining!
“You sure are learning a lot at camp. Sounds like great fun, punkin! Now, are you liking the food?” Stewart’s mum asked.
“Ya. It’s pretty good. There is always something good to eat.”
“Are you pooping OK, honey?” His mum asked in a hushed tone.
I froze. I remembered that Stewart was the kid who had created the ginorm that had caused a plumbing emergency.
“Ya. The kids in the Deer Hut call me the Colossal King.”
“What? Why?” Stewart’s mum choked on her orange slice.
“Because I had a gargantuan one that almost made the toilet explode!” Stewart exclaimed with a large measure of pride. Stewart’s mum recoiled as his dad chuckled.
“Stewart! That’s disgusting!” His mum chastised him while his dad gave him a high five. “Don’t encourage him, Brett! Do you boys ever grow up?”
“Well, Laura honey, you asked.” Brett responded.
“Are you drinking enough, Stewart?” Laura asked, ignoring her husband who was still grinning.
“Probably not enough, I guess.” Stewart shrugged. Stewart’s dad looked down into his cup of juice and grimaced. The juice was true to form — unidentifiable.
“What the hell kind of juice is this anyways, Stewart?” His dad asked gruffly.
“No one knows Dad. No one knows!” Stewart squealed.
“No wonder he’s not getting enough fluids Laura! This stuff is horrible.”
“Bobbo called the juice an enigma!” Stewart offered.
“Oh! Well that’s a big word.” Laura gushed.
“Big words and big poops.Good times at camp” Brett summarized it. Stewart was tickled. Laura…not so much.