And when the plagues of winter coats, double socks, muddy spring sports, homework, recitals, practices, tutoring, and the whiney little sister and the bossy big brother had passed, it was still only the mid-April. Then a cry could be heard from town to town: “We want freedom!”
“We ate our matzah,” they said, “and asked more than four questions. So, why are we still stuck in the house with our parents. Why?”
“Our brains have been turned to mush by spring fever, and we’re forced to wear sunscreen just to play in the driveway. Really?”
“We have listened to our parents go on and on for months about chores, practicing, and focusing. When will it end?”
And the answer came from every parent. “Soon! You’ll be at camp soon!”
Then the countdowns began on calendars and iPads, on big pads of paper, and on Facebook.
Freedom was almost near enough to taste, and it tasted so much better than chocolate-covered macaroons.
If you haven’t chosen one yet, let us help you find a camp.
Our One Happy Camper Grant might even help you to pay for it.
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