the true story of humpty dumpty

Undereye concealer: The camp counselor's best friend.

I look like death warmed over, but I'm having a fabulous time. Yesterday just flew by, and today did too, even with the pop-up thunderstorms that kept us in the gym during lunch.

So far, the best part has been that pretty much every parent, upon delivering his/her child to camp this morning, burst out with some variation on, "S/he had so much fun yesterday!"

Other entertaining parental comments:

"Sully was so tired that I asked him what he wanted to do, and he said, 'Just watch Little Einsteins.' He never does that!"

"Caleb woke up at quarter to five this morning asking if it was time to go to drama camp!" (My internal reaction: "Oh please the Lord, no! Don't we start early enough?")

"Corey was just chat-chat-chat-chat about camp yesterday. I don't think he wanted to come home." (Great, now I'm inheriting children.)

"Grace spent all yesterday afternoon trying to juggle!" (This from a dad who reported the event while juggling three balls seamlessly, far better than I can. Um, Mr. Hartley? Want to come teach my camp?)

I just hope they had as much fun today. We got into rehearsing the play, which is never as much fun as writing it, which we did yesterday, because you have to be quiet and listen and Joseph you've asked me what time it is every five minutes for the past three hours so now I'm not answering you anymore.

The play, though, is indubitably hilarious, and the amazing thing is, they wrote it themselves, with just a few suggestions from me.

Don't believe me that fourteen six- to ten-year-olds can write a play? Consider: Humpty Dumpty on the Great Wall of China, with a best friend who is a big wheel of cheese, has a cell phone, and with all sorts of characters who continually make egg-related puns. I couldn't write that stuff if you paid me.

My kids rock. I sort of want to scoop them all up at the end of the week and conscript them into my personal childhood drama cabal.

Right now, though, I need to shower and see if I can do anything to disguise the pervasive exhaustion creeping over my body. Bring on the Maybelline.