I had two six-year-olds suffer kindergartener meltdowns today. Nine to three is really long for them -- even though they've done a year of full-day kindergarten, that usually includes naps, which camp does not.
So first Cora lost it because she didn't have her swimsuit with her and we were hooking up the sprinkler at lunch time. I called her mom, who was at the beach, and couldn't be bothered, really. (Hmph.) She pointed out that there were extra clothes in Cora's bag so she could run through the sprinkler, although Cora did astutely notice that there were not extra undies in there. Regardles, she calmed down and all seemed well.
Later on, though, while being too silly during Arts and Crafts, she bumped heads with her sister and collapsed into a puddle of tears. I did some lap-sitting and hugging and boo-boo kissing, and through sniffles she murmured, "I'm tired... I wanna go home!" So I suggested we go over and curl up on the couch for a little.
Lo and behold, once Cora was snuggled into the corner of the couch, whom should I notice but Sully, back to the world, hunched into a little ball. I picked him up and pulled him onto my lap, and got him to tell me what was wrong.
"They hurt my feelings," he said, his face scrunching up into a big red mess.
Well, we never did figure out who "they" were, but someone said something that Sully thought was "You're a bad colorer" and he took it hard. Luckily, my eight- to ten-year-old girls are very handy; they gathered around (who can resist a cute crying kindergarten towhead?) and assured him he was an awesome colorer, they loved the fire he drew coming from the dragon's mouth, and he should be very proud. I got him to take me over and show me the dragon and we all praised it to the heavens, and he seemed better, but still pretty worn out.
So I did the only thing I could do. I got out the emergency box of Cheetos, Fritos, and Doritos, and the kids helped themselves to a snack bag each.
Thank you, Frito-Lay. Is there anything your cheesy goodness can't do?