After a wonderful week+ on vacation, O & I are hanging “up north” — just the two of us — as he was the only bro to get into a local day camp. The ability to work remotely, with my child safely engaged in outdoor activity for the entirety of the day, from the comfort of our home-away-from-home sure sounds ideal, but in practice, I was anxious on Sunday night as I prepped for the week.

For starters, O is our second born, and, while he is uncannily brave in moments when he needs to be, he’s not used to trailblazing without his brothers. In addition, he tends to freeze under pressure, so while many children may cry crocodile tears that evaporate as soon as their parents walk away, O is at risk of becoming inconsolable and retreating into a place of forlorn unresponsiveness for an extended period unless he has pretty undivided attention of someone aiming to resolve his woes.

All this to say, I was nervous about Monday morning drop-off at a camp that sounded promising but to which he had never been, particularly as he’d be going completely solo.

As a result, O & I conducted a reconnaissance mission on Sunday and came to scope out the camp. We puttered around the grounds and remarked on all the cool features, including winding trails through the woods, promisingly titled cabins (“library,” “workshop”), and beautiful beach section.

We then went to the store to pick up meal fixings per his selections — his first brown bag lunches! He chose: half a jelly sandwich, Pringles, applesauce, strawberries, baby carrots, and Mario fruit snacks. For snack, we froze yogurt pouches and packed them with goldfish crackers.

On Monday morning, he was in good spirits, and I resisted the urge to get frustrated as I wrestled him (literally, including fear of head injury as he thrashed about in a ticklish fit) to apply his base layer of sunscreen. We marched over to the check-in tent and made our way to the corral where the kids were playing until start time. O was just beginning to show signs of anxiety when a friendly little girl showed up behind us and asked where she was supposed to put her backpack. I clarified that we were told either one was fine, but that we were putting O’s with group A. She happily placed hers next to his, and told him she is “5 and a half years old.” O quietly replied that he’s “4 and a half,” and a friendship was born. I encouraged them to go together to the music garden a counselor had pointed out, but they quickly got bored and she instead showed him the way to the jungle gym, where they played with a 6-year-old who was wearing the same dinosaur “sweaty pants” (Target acquired) that O absolutely loves in his own wardrobe.

I let him know I would be heading out to work soon, gave him a kiss and a hug, and only loitered another few seconds before I walked away with him monkeying around with his new friends on the playground behind me. I tossed my bag (which had covertly housed his favorite stuffed Ankylosaurus in case of emergency comfort need) back into the passenger seat, and drove back home until 4pm pickup.

I guess after 4.5 years of being consistently impressed by this unassuming kid, I shouldn’t be surprised that he delivers in a pinch. On the other hand, it would be hard to overstate how happy I was to hear his joyful report as we drove home from the first day. Clearly he had a wonderful time, even if all he could specifically remember from his itinerary was that he “went swimming and had a snack.”

And if that wasn’t evidence enough of a busy day well-spent, he also spontaneously demanded to know “why are we not sleeping yet??” at 7:30pm that same night. By 7:35, he was sound asleep with “Anky,” resting up for his next big day at summer camp.