Monday, Monday

I'm pretty proud to announce this morning that I actually woke up a few minutes before my alarm, and proceeded to use that time to get ready for my day. I know. Shocker. On the way to work my mother introduced me to her new invention, the language Yeddo: a mixture of Yiddish and Ghetto. An example would be "vi fil cheddar?" meaning how much does this cost. It's ridiculous but she finds herself to be so funny there's little to no chance of stopping this from occurring so it's better to let it just run its course. Mondays at camp include group time at the beginning of the day, but since we didn't have any new kids, we just talked about what we did this weekend. I told my 7 and 8 year olds about my canoe trip and my growing blog. Apparently blogs are a little outdated because they were pretty confused about what a blog is, so I just didn't mention it again. A day filled with playground time and dodge ball ensued and during swim time, two girls moved up from red wristbands to green ones! It was exciting for me at least... After swim, whilst changing, two of my slowest boys tried to race and narrated their race in third person, then when one boy finally finished the other declared that, "Winning or losing doesn't matter!" despite stomping his feet angrily today when he lost silent speed ball. During after care I walked from the gym to the game room and saw one of my favorite campers getting tutored in the lobby, but on the way back to the gym I saw him leaving because, "The teenagers are too loud, probably all scrolling through Instagram," he informed me. 7 year olds are funnier than most of my high school friends. When work ended I went to the gym to play basketball with a friend and pretended to be winning when any girls walked in. In reality I was losing 6 to 0. I did win one game because I scored first, right before the gym closed; I was quick to tell everyone about this victory. I got a ride home with my amazing co-counselor and what awaited me at home? Dinner. And no, I don't mean cereal. Actual dinner. It was a miracle. A hamburger with baked potato and asparagus; needless to say, my mom was very proud of herself and smiled as she crocheted her latest project. She had spent a week in New Jersey at a camp for presumably middle aged women, it taught crocheting and how to relive your childhood. After dinner she reminded me that it was a friend's birthday and asked if I was buying her a present, which I didn't understand because my mom barely knows when my birthday is, and she also hates buying gifts for anyone. Tomorrow I need to dress like I'm from a different decade for camp, pictures to come.