So who’s ready for Visiting Day?
Did you pack up the car yet?
Figure out your plan of attack?
Set your alarm so you can be the earliest ones there?
Did you make a poster with your kids’ names on it in BIG BOLD LETTERS?
So they will be the first ones to catch a glimpse of their parents — who are clearly, like, the best parents EVER — waiting behind the rope line like a bunch of anxious brides-to-be at a Kleinfeld’s sample sale?
You did that, right?
I mean… How else will they know that you love them?
What are you bringing?
Did you get the Zipper bracelets?
The mustache duct tape?
The mesh side-tie pinney pimped out with camp name and bunk number?
Did you order the shredded camp sweatshirt?
The Bobble bottles and the battery-operated Gummybear light?
Or at least the Gummybear necklace?
I’m assuming you already got the Color War swag?
Which should include — but by no means be limited to — the tutus and cowboys hats and fingerless gloves and sparkly wigs and pom-poms and face paint and glitter tattoos and colored hair spray and cow bells and megaphones and mardi gras beads and beaded bracelets and booty shorts and bandeaus and shutter shades and soccer socks.
Just to name a few.
You got the case of Silly String?
And the Pump-a-nator water balloons and bigass Super Soaker?
The custom airbrushed cooler packed with sushi and Chinese food and chocolate-covered pretzels?
The Pringles and Pic-a-Bagels and camp name cookie cake?
The camp-colored popcorn?
And please tell me you didn’t forget the personalized tackle box, giant Rice Krispie treat, massive crack tower from Dylan’s, and a handful of Valium for the car ride home.
I swear I am a normal person the other 364 days of the year.