Now that I have grown up enough to call myself a mom, I find myself dropping my own children off at summer camp each morning and remembering my own summer days. As a child, I would happily run to the bleachers for morning assembly. My butt would stick to the hot bleachers while the camp songs were sung and the daily announcements were being made. But none of this helped to ease the anticipation of the clipboard that was being reviewed three girls down from me. I would listen half-heartedly as I waited for my turn. You see, my entire day
This article appears in Jul 18-24, 2007.
