The Princess is in camp all week, and she seems to be enjoying it. Every day she comes home and says what a great time she had, but then the next morning it’s a fight to get her to go. She thinks she’s missing out on something here, I guess. (Little does she know.) So, I have been trying to placate her by saying that I will try to come pick her up after lunch, but I think she’s on to me. Today she said, “Don’t try. Do.” What is she, Yoda?
The other thing that’s nice is that she’s making friends there at the camp. Yesterday she came home and asked if her new friend could come for a sleepover. So, I said, “What’s your friend’s name?” But The Princess couldn’t say. I hope she doesn’t plan to do this kind of thing when she’s older — inviting a person she just met whose name she doesn’t know for a sleepover. That’s just a bad habit to get into. I met the kid today. She seems like a sweet girl, really cute with gorgeous ringlets of dark hair, but she’s not coming to sleep over. We just met her. Can’t we start slowly, with like, a playdate?
Meanwhile, Edison is not idle in this first full week off. No. He has devised a club, kind of like the Boy Scouts, with merit badges made of paper (and I think stolen from the Boy Scouts of America website, which he assures me is okay since he’s not making any money from this endeavor) called the Edison Scouts. He and Clooney were busy all afternoon, earning these badges. They ran around the house for the athletic badge. They created puppet shows for the entertainment badge. They biked to another part of the neighborhood for some other kind of badge. Oh, they were busy, busy. But more importantly, they were having fun together.
And when The Princess got home from camp, she joined the Edison Scouts, and they re-created all of the events for her so that she could earn her badges too. She was so happy; they all sat on the same side of the table at dinner, saying please and thank you and being closer than three middle toes in a pointed shoe. For the moment, there’s a lot of love in this house.
But in the words of Scarlet O’Hara: “Tomorrow is another day.”