Go down, Pie Pie, way down to camp land,
tell old, teacher, “I’m going to let my mommy go…”
[Can you hear the tune? Because I can’t get it out of my head.]
It’s that Pie. She’s back to her old tricks again. The kids are doing the Summer Fun program at the local middle school. We walked in this morning, and the woman who runs it also ran the Club Invention both my kids were in. Doodles did wonderfully at Club Invention. Pie did wonderfully… when she wasn’t crying because she missed me.
The director took a look at us, and panic entered her eyes. She said, “Oh, Doodles is joining us for Summer Fun!”
“Pie, too!” I responded. I can only describe the director’s look as horrified.
We dropped Doodles off at his class (where the teacher asked, “Uh, how old is he?” and I assured her that despite his size and reluctance to state his name, he is indeed going into third grade and is age appropriate for Wacky Science for third to fifth graders. “Just checking,” she said).
Then Pie and I made our way through the school to the kitchen, where Way Cool Cooking for first and second graders was starting. Pie was so excited for Summer Fun. Way Cool Cooking in the morning and American Girl Doll fun in the afternoon (not as scary as it sounds, I swear: “Read books, play games, act of scenes, make fun crafts and projects as we learn how American girls lived and played long ago”). These were the camps she most wanted to attend.
But, of course, that didn’t stop the tears. “Mommy! Don’t go!” What kills me is this is camp. As I keep telling Pie, “Camp is optional!” She can stay. She can go. She just can’t make me stand there in the hallway for 20 minutes while she sobs, confused. The thing is, she really wants to go.
My trusty Interwebs research is starting to make me think that she has a (more on the mild side) case of separation anxiety disorder. Not that that makes it any easier to have my daughter in tears. Taking the selfish route here, having her a mess every morning ruins my day. I’m tense and stressed out, and inevitably, when I pick her up, she’s had a fantastic day. Every night she comes home from her camps (Club Invention, Girl Scout camp) saying how marvelous it is. Every morning she’s in tears when it’s time to go.
Nothing witty or uplifting to say here. Just a chance to vent about my daughter and her inability to separate. Two kids. Same parents. Same upbringing. One can’t get rid of me fast enough. The other already talks about how she’s going to live with me when she’s an adult.
Yanna is doing a similar thing with camp. Loves it, can’t wait to get there in the morning and when she gets there, gets all sad and teary eyed (no outright crying though) and the longer I wait, the clingier she gets. My sympathies.