So here's the deal with camp:
1. Henry loves it. So far so good. He's even been exceptionally pleasant on the day that he stayed home with me and Lucy went.
2. Lucy does not know her own limits. When I have picked her up each day she has been red-faced and glistening with sweat -- and today they didn't even play outside. Then when I get her home she is a whiny little monster.
3. Lucy's pickiness means that she doesn't eat much while she is there. I'm trying adopt a laissez-faire attitude by telling myself that maybe this will broaden her horizons. Not bloody likely.
Also the center is nut-free, which is great except the mainstays of Lucy's diet are: Nutella, Peanut butter and Honey sandwiches, and a mix of cashews and almonds in a bowl, so it's not like I can offer to send in her favorite snack.
4. The two days this week when I had the house to myself were ultimately exhausting because I was busy without interruption. That's right. No kids, no reason to take a breath. And much like my own daughter I'm pretty cranky around 4 p.m. But I can't just sleep the whole time they are gone, can I?
Hopefully Lucy and I will adjust. But next week we're going to have the ceiling ripped out of our kitchen, and I'm sure none of us will cope well with that.