Camp

Yesterday Lucy and I went north to spend just the day. We started the day in Millinocket to visit Great-great Aunt Harriett (in the nursing home) and Great-great Uncle Allistair, and then moved on to our family's camp, north of Millinocket and south of Baxter State Park. It's Lucy's third trip to camp; the last two were fall of last year. Since she is just now really starting to move around and figure her world out, I think the first two don't actually count.

For me it's always much less fun going up to camp first thing in the spring because it's cold and super buggy. Because of this, Lucy and I didn't really spend any time outside, though grandma took her out for a few minutes while I napped on the couch. :) Lucy mostly napped, motored around camp in her walker, ate, and played with Grandma and Grandpa. She obviously has no concept of camp yet, which I think is just as well. I'm hoping that camp can be as exciting and magical for her as a child as it was for me as a child, and I think that yesterday would have failed to capture that magic.

Last summer before Lucy was born, my cousin Ken was up at camp with his wife and two girls, around ages 12 and 10. Eric and I went up for the day to visit, and Ken was happy to see us because he said the girls were going crazy with boredom. Bored at camp? I'm sure I must have been bored at times as a child, but my memories of camp revolve around running in the woods, riding in the boat, playing on the rocks and in the water, and imagining anything was possible, including that the rocks on our shoreline were the rooms in my house. Will Erin and Tara look back on their visit and remember being bored and not liking camp? Or will they remember more fun than their dad thought they were having?

What was it about my time at camp that makes me remember it so fondly and how can I create that same sense of camp fun and happiness for Lucy?