It takes two to Challah

I didn't have time to shower this morning because, let's face it, I'll never in my life be ahead of schedule. In the car this morning my mom pointed out, "you need to wash your hair." I rolled my eyes, but then she started laughing and I asked her what was funny. "I'm afraid that anything I say to you, you'll post on your blog," she said. You're right mom. Camp started off with a huge thunderstorm that forced us to be inside all day long. Gera and I decided to take an hour and plan a scavenger hunt around camp for the kids with clues that rhymed, and challenges and what not. What we forgot to come up with was an ending, so when each group ran screaming into the auditorium to look for more clues, we had to tell them that it was over. They were more confused than entertained. In the words of one child, "that wasn't a scavenger hunt, that was a wild goose chase!" As the day progressed, the kids got crazier and crazier as their pent up energy tripled with their pent up state. In order to calm the kids down we took a variety of approaches, one being yoga which didn't work, because second and third graders aren't great at not talking. We ended up having them run in place until they were too tired to run and they could sit down and relax, quietly. Song Session was at the end of the day, and we did our usual Shabbat songs and what not, except they got stuck in my head so the next two hours were full of Hebrew lyrics running around my head. During after care I had all of the kids sit quietly and meditate to a soundtrack, mostly because I wanted to sneak in a nap. In the game room I turned my attention to a growing trend among the campers: ranking their favorite counselors. In general I hovered from third to fifth, which I was happy with, except for one little girl, who put me at seven thousandth. I spend every single day with this camper in my group singing and joking and whatnot, but I still couldn't seem to even crack the top one hundred. There are only thirty counselors at camp anyway, but that's on her. Later at home, I walked in the front door and greeted my family, then I asked my mom what was for dinner, bracing myself for the answer. "Chicken Parmesan," she said. "Leftovers?" I asked dismally, her nonsensical reply was, "but you didn't eat it when we had it for dinner." Yeah mom, because if I didn't eat it originally, three days later it's still fresh cooked; same way that a used car can be sold at full price because it's new to someone else. After I dejectedly left the kitchen, my brother told me that my mom had bought me new shampoo, "is it Valentines day already?" I asked. The last time I got new shampoo was when I took it out of a gift bag my mom got me on Valentines day, along with my silk boxers.