Camp Chronicles, Part 2: Ben's Banner Day

Yesterday, I wrote about the 3 R’s of reading, writing, and running. Today, I realized that this Christian camp we attend boils down to 3 B’s: Bicycles, the Bible, and the beach (in that order). Here’s a bicycle tale for the Waters annals:

One of the main challenges of any vacation, especially with kids, is the packing. For this particular getaway, we not only need to cram our van with clothes, sleeping bags and foodstuffs, but we also have to add 6 bikes to the transport, plus a 2-seat jogging stroller. Oh—and the children themselves. Impossible? Yes! The solution? We hire a 1-man moving company called Grandpa.

Grandpa is generosity personified. He not only loaned us his vehicle and made the trip to camp to help us settle in, but he also equipped the kids’ bikes with headlights, taillights, and whiz-bang helmets. And! He made an extra, special trip to fix the bike of our nephew Percy, who had rolled his tire over a stray thumbtack on the second day of camp.

Our Ben, age 5, observed the miracle of his older cousin’s bike restoration, and his own wheels started turning. By the end of Day 2, Ben started asking us to use those tools to remove his training wheels. Like most people in charge of 6 children at once, we ignored his initial requests, too busy to really hear the little guy. But by the third day, Ben got through. In fact, Day 3 proved to be a Banner Day for Ben. First, the breakthrough: We took off the extra wheels, and he took off like a pro! The transition from training-wheeled preschooler to 2-wheeling bigshot lasted about 90 seconds. As if that wasn’t enough power to jack up a 5-year-old’s independence, Ben got another boost:

We had gone blueberry picking that afternoon, the kids and I, and as we made our way back on the dusty road leading to the campground, the older ones asked to be dropped off at the camp store (a.k.a. the candy shop), just a few hundred yards from our cabin. Pearl had fallen asleep in her carseat, and Ben didn’t want to be left out of the fun. The older kids had money to spend, and I decided Ben deserved some sugar, too—big 2-wheeler rider that my son had now become. So I gave him the only cash I had: A 10-dollar bill. I hoped I would get some of it back, but Ben would prove to be a future banker. That evening, the cousins exclaimed about Ben’s impressive cash stash.

“I’ve got 7 bucks!” Ben bragged, patting his pocket possessively.

“I know,” I said. “I gave it to you.”

“No,” Ben replied seriously. “The lady did.”

The lady? Since when did I become “the lady”? I wondered. I mean, I realize you ride a 2-wheeler and all, but I really didn’t expect to be phased out as “Mommy” this very day.

“What do you mean, ‘the lady’—what lady?” I asked my boy.

“The lady at the store!” Ben chirped, and he wheeled away merrily.

Change! I realized. He paid for his candy with the 10, and the cashier gave him back “7 bucks,” apparently.

What a thrill for a child—to hand over 1 piece of paper, get sweet stuff, and then be given even more papers back, good for even more sweet stuff.

Life is beautiful. Camp is magical.

Photo: Life is Beautiful (1998)