Ok, not really. And I'm not in South Carolina, THAT governor doesn't even know how to pardon his own bad behavior.
The "reprieve" I'm referring to is the "vacation" The Mister and I will be having next week when The Boy goes away to camp. For.six.days.and.five.nights. In.a.row. How sweet is that?
This is The Boy's first time at a 'sleepaway' camp. He's been away before, but I think camp will be a lot more fun than the three months he spent in a state mental hospital (but that's just me...no, not really - I'm pretty sure everyone would think that).
Anyway, on Sunday afternoon, The Mister and I will deliver The Boy and his belongings to camp, less than an hour away from here. They have a pool, a lake, a 50 ft. Alpine tower, archery, canoeing and crafts. They also take a float trip on a local river and go caving.
But before you think that it's all fun and games, they also have time to practice positive social skills, and a nurse is on staff to administer medication. This camp will be filled with both disabled and non-disabled kids. It will be interesting to know how The Boy fares. He's going to be in a group with seven other kids - and supervised by a counselor. They offered 1:1, 1:4, or 1:8 ratios of counselors to campers. We decided to take a big gamble and let him do the 1:8 thing. Yikes.
The Boy is most interested in swimming. He's afraid to try archery, he says his hand tremors may cause him to accidentally shoot someone. He is trying to avoid a lawsuit on this trip. Wise move.
This will be the first time since our arrival here in MO (it will be a year tomorrow, btw) that The Mister and I are ALONE. Whatever shall we do?
Get your minds out of the gutter now! I'm sure we'll enjoy the quiet, and we will be able to do pretty much what we please. Can you tell I typed that with a smile on my face?
Before you start imagining the adult adventures that might occur in and around the Cleaver compound, realize that I will be fretting the entire time The Boy is gone.
Some of the thoughts that will be swirling through my addled mind:
Is he being nice?
Is he insulting and/or threatening anyone?
Has he made a friend?
Is he having a good time?
Did they make sure that one of the whitest white boys around is wearing sunscreen?
I will sit by the phone and wait for the call to come pick him up. This is my fate as the mother of The Unpredictable One.
The Boy is wavering between excitement and mild anxiety about leaving (just like me). He is convinced that the food will be horrible. He has already requested meatloaf as his "last meal before he goes to camp".