Much like Padel, summer camp is all the rage. What started when we were young, with parents finding an old “trommel”, throwing in a few odds and ends along with a cousin’s old sleeping bag, over the past few years has blossomed into what can only be described as a flourishing cottage industry.
Facebook marketplace now offers nifty carry bags for stretchers and chairs, artists provide designs for the painting of trommels, and there are different options for clothing and food.
I don’t want to be that “in-my-day guy”, but back then, nobody brought food, and it was only the asthmatics who slept above ground.
I’ve often wondered how the youth movements handle any of our children. I mean, no disrespect, quite the contrary, as somehow, they seem to manage better than actual qualified parents.
Especially if it’s for a period of three weeks.
If kids were travelling with their parents, the expectation would be tremendous. These would include making sure they have the Wi-Fi password on hand, that internet is uncapped, and that no one gets “bored”. Food allergies, meal preferences, snacks, and the occasional treat would be noted, along with the requirement of a weekly take-out order that specifies “no garnish!” Parents would be aware that removing the salad from a burger leaves a slight residue, and that Jewish kids aren’t likely to accept the offering.
Concerta would need to be packed along with a low dosage of Cipramol in the case of anxiety, and even whilst away, they would need to reschedule the occupational therapist, jiu jitsu, netball, soccer, and Tumbling Tigers, play therapist, and BodyTalk sessions ahead of time.
Holidays with parents also wouldn’t be able to be scheduled ahead of a dance recital, when practices are mandatory, and when the dance instructor is unlikely to accept Mauritius as an excuse for non-attendance. It’s one thing to be on a desert island, it’s quite another to be socially ostracised by the dance group. Especially if tickets have already been secured.
Travelling in South Africa would also pose some unique challenges. Backup power – preferably solar – would probably be an expectation, and parents would need to commit to at least two trips to Dis-Chem per week of holiday. For the entire period away, no voices could be raised, because that’s not how we talk, and our children would expect to be encouraged and not instructed to comply.
And all because the kids have had a hard year.
It’s remarkable that the stringent requirements fall away as soon as campers leave home. The designer trommels and Wi-Fi requirements become irrelevant. For a few weeks, Dis-Chem isn’t a required outing, and garnish no longer has the power to destroy a perfectly good day.
That’s something that thankfully hasn’t changed. Nor has the fact that miss our children as we do, there’s nothing quite like sending them on their way for a few glorious weeks.
