You're Magical

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The five seven- and eight-year olds giggled racing up the path to the archery field. I tried without success to keep up. Out of breath when I arrived, I took a seat beside the archery counselor, the five newest archers arrayed in front of us. 

I had reminded all five girls before heading up to the archery field that they needed to tie their hair back and that they must wear close-toed shoes. They could not participate wearing crocs. 

Yet as the counselor explained the rules she scanned the campers' feet, stopping as she saw Jenna's footwear. 

"You're wearing crocs."

"I don't have sneakers, " Jenna responded, "I guess I'll just have to watch then."

"Are you sure you don't have sneakers?"

A shrug of the shoulders, "I didn't see any."

Jenna's eyes welled up with tears as she sat quietly, her hopes of trying archery for the first time, dashed. 

Hmm, I thought to myself, any parent who sends a daughter to a one-week sleepaway camp with a trunk that a moose could hide in must have sent sneakers. 

"I'll be right back," I told the counselor. 

Arriving in Jenna's cabin, I heaved open her trunk and peered in at myriad zip-loc bags each neatly labeled, "pjs", "shorts", "T-shirts."  Below the clothing bags were an assortment of craft projects and below that extra bottles of sunscreen and bug repellant. Carefully working my way through the layers, I found at the bottom, a pair of brand new, never-been-worn, pink sneakers. I grabbed them and headed back to the archery field where four of the campers were receiving bows and arrows. 

Jenna saw me and a smile lit up her face. 

"You're magical!" she broadcast. 

I smiled in return; that was the best compliment I could receive from a camper. 

Dumpster Diving and Baby Birds

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Walking by the camp office after breakfast, I was enthusiastically greeted with a shout from a petite camper standing by the dumpster, “Kate, come here! We need your help! Our cabin trashcan dropped in. Can you get it?” 

“No problem,” I quickly responded. 

I looked in and there was no trashcan in sight. 

“Are you sure? I don’t see a trashcan.” 

“Oh, I think it was dropped in yesterday. We can’t find it.” 

“Kate, there’s a baby bird on a rock by our cabin, what should we do?” 

And as I walked past the bathroom, “Kate, my toothpaste is too spicy. I can’t brush my teeth.” 

Which was quickly followed by, “Ow! My brush is stuck in my hair. Kate, can you get it out?” 

Each of these minor obstacles, was a refreshing reminder of simple pleasures— clean teeth, caring for other creatures, snarl-free hair, recovering a lost object— all of which each camper managed on her own with only a little guidance. And the trashcan? It was found where it had been left beneath a tree, no dumpster dive required.