Rule #3: Trips to the port-o-potty should be quick and brief, lest chaos errupt.

I suppose I had forgotten what a serious toll the children take on my energy drive, or on any drive that doesn't directly involve shepherding and entertaining kids. No matter, I'm here now to discus something important, something vital, something that everyone should come to terms with: the port-o-potty is no place to hold social experiments.
"So, Tyler, what exactly were you doing in there for 45 minutes?"
There was no sheepish shame on this boy's face. No glimmers of guilt or embarrassment. Oh no, he smiled real wide and his cocky swagger was enough to make me forget that I was supposedly upset with him.
"I wanted to see what the other kids would do when they had to pee real, real bad. Like, what would they do to get me OUT of there?"
And they had gone to great lengths to extract our little Curious George from his smelly hiding place. It began with a few tiny tykes who just needed to relieve themselves, as they had to ever 5 minutes, and it grew into a line of 15 angry campers who needed to pee, dangit! From polite knocking grew to banging and shouting, which concluded in the whole team of them shaking the plastic lavatory 'till it almost fell over.
He came out, eventually, with a wide, satisfied grin plastered across his kisser. Ignoring the spectators' growled threats and burning glares, that would have set any decent soul into an inferno of shame, he walked over to some of the other older boys, sat, and acted as if he had not just spent the past 3/4 of an hour in a box that's smell was the stuff of horror stories.
How he did it, I have no idea nor do I wish to investigate. He was simply trying to answer a question, wanted an answer and consequences be damned, he was going to be satisfied!

I still think there are better questions in the world to be answered.
But that's just the opinion of a boring counselor.

Rule #2: Standing at the top of the slide for extended periods of time is never acceptable.

He was a big kid. One of my big kids. Standing at the top of the slide ladder, swaying a little, mumbling a lot, indecision written all over his round, baby face. And I suppose I can't be too hard on him; the slide was high, the ground was wet, and the sneaky metal could have snagged him on his way down, leaving him in that forever-after haunting "stuck" position.
And so he sweated. Looked around, and stood. Now the line of impatient and rowdy school children behind him was no support group. This was getting old! This was getting boring! MOVE ALREADY!
But he couldn't move forward, as the consequences could be anywhere from mildly uncomfortable to completely mortifying. Could he afford it? Could he afford to NOT move? Quite the double edged sword.
Wanna hear the end?
He moved forward.
Ended up in a pile of wet mulch,
and the line of spectators applauded.

Rule #1: The answers to life's dilemmas can be obtained at any Walmart store. End of story.

Today we talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up.
"What about you Alec? Any ideas?"
"Oh... A vampire."
Of course when a 5 year old says something like that you have to press it, as the absurdity that is guaranteed to ensue is well worth the time.
"But... How will you become a vampire?"
"The vampire will give me his vampire disease."
"How will you find the vampire? Will you hunt him down?"
"No way! I'll call him."
"...Do you know any vampires? What's his number?"
"It's in the Vampire Book.... I GOT IT AT WALMART, OK?!"

And it was OK. It was OK that this kid was so determined in his mind to be what he wanted to be that there was always another way to get there, no matter what obstacles I threw at him.
He was going to get what he wanted.
And he was going to get it from Walmart.

Worms, Wizards, and Peanut Butter Sandwhiches.

So today was day one (1) of week one (1).
And with 150 children, 35 of them being my beloved 10-13 year olds, the promises of summer are endless.
And all together terrifying.
Because today I was offered a deal - I give him a piece of candy, he'll find me a boyfriend. I should just give him my list of requirements. - And almost had my pants pulled down during a frantic game of "Campzilla! Beasts from within!". Kids who've known my for years asked if I was 26 or 27; a silly question for an 18 year old.

I can't wait.
So this post is boring, but they told me I needed to write something.
So I did.
And I will.


P.S. Check out my Youtube!