There were things she loved about camp: Archery, Horseback riding, the "Queen and Fairy Godmother" game, their bunk mate Francis (who is one of 12 children, and DD1 thought she was hilarious), songs and s'mores, cookout breakfast the last morning, volleyball, four of her counselors - especially Kiwi, her counselor from New Zealand.
There were things she didn't love about camp: The latrines, showering in semi-privacy, the ants that live in the tent's wooden plank floor, the moths that live in the top of the tent, she missed us a lot (perhaps even more than we missed her if that is possible), and that her flashlight batteries which were brand new died the first night.
There are things I wish I had pictures of: Her sitting on the wooden steps to the tent the morning they all woke up at 4am and were waiting for the sun to come up, her on her horse - who she now thinks of as a life long friend, her eating chocolate chip pancakes that last morning - famished and exhausted and disheveled.
She'll start telling us a story, then skip crucial details or reference things I have no clue about, and when she finishes her story we're totally confused. I don't know at what age it sinks in to kids that you are TRULY a separate person from your parents, but from the way she talks I know that DD1 is still very firmly in the subconscious mind set that I simply "know" everything about her life. That we automatically just "know" what has happened to her. She hasn't yet figured out that I'm really not omnipotent, that there are vast portions of her life that I sort of don't have a clue about... which is one of those things about parenting that surprises me. I didn't know it would be like that, before I was a mom. Becoming a mom has taught me so much, especially how much I didn't know before.
Overall? The good outweighed the bad, and camp was good. For both of us.
Finding their tent area on the map:
With her BCF (Best Camping Friend):
Her actual cot: