Two weeks ago, Hubby and I attended Visitor’s Day at our son’s camp. Eager to see us, Tech waved his long arm at us as we approached his village. After he introduced us to his counselors, showed us his bed, and shoved the treats we’d brought into his trunk for safekeeping, we went for a walk. As we strolled, Tech explained that a bunch of campers had been temporarily quarantined because they all had bumpy rashes on their torsos.
Tech stopped in the middle of the road and pulled up his shirt. “Check it out,” he said, pointing to his midriff.
Hubby inspected the boy’s belly.
“Looks like heat rash,” I said dismissively.
“But it could be something,” Hubby said.
“The Health Department let us go,” Tech said.
“The Health Department was here?” Hubby and I said in stereo.
Rolling his shirt back down, our son resumed walking down the road. “They said it was nothing. The nurse told us we could go back to our bunks.”
Despite the fact that Tech seemed fine, I found myself arranging for him to have a throat culture.
As you can imagine, the Health Department was right.
All’s well that ends well, yes?
At noon, the boy came home for intersession: a few days where folks go home and drink and sleep and do laundry before returning to camp for the remaining three weeks. It’s a LoveFest over here.
And by that I mean, the boy is loving his technology.
Once in a while, I seem to manage to get a smooch in.
How’s your summer going? And to those of you with kids who went to camp, what’s the word? Any weird rashes?
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PS: Check out what my kid has been doing!