What a Difference A Year Makes

Last summer was Daniel's first "away from Mommy" experience -- he attended camp 3 mornings a week. For the first couple of weeks, he had to be pulled from my car in the morning, crying and pleading, "Mommy! Mommy!" I would watch my little peanut being carried into the building, and try to hold it together myself. Both he and I were unable to accept the separation at first. Things got better as the summer went on, but Daniel was still just a little boy who had never before been on his own. The hardest part for me was that he couldn't even tell me about his day. He used a couple of words here and there, but he wasn't exactly sharing his feelings. I had to have faith that he was happy in camp and that it was a valuable experience.

A year later, it seems crazy that I ever felt any anxiety over Daniel's adjustment to camp. After a wonderful school year during which he grew in leaps and bounds, both physically and intellectually, Daniel made a seamless transition into his second summer at camp. Mornings are a breeze -- Daniel doesn't flinch when his CIT opens the car door to retrieve him from the car. He climbs down from his car seat by himself, and struts into the building like he owns the place. Everyone knows his name. There are no more tears. Even when he comes home with a nasty-looking scratch, I ask him if he cried when he got hurt and he says, "No!" He tells me if he swam in the big or little pool, whom he sat with at lunch, and whether or not he saw Miss Allison for music. He climbs into the car at the end of the day with a smile on his face, and immediately asks if I've remembered to bring him a treat (usually gummy candy or a lollipop). He is a big boy now, and he knows what he wants. Five mornings a week, I know that he's going to have fun at camp. That's all I want.