Summer camps: between 'mindfulness' and lunchboxes

BarcelonaIn childbirth classes, they talk a lot about sleepless nights, cracked nipples, postpartum blues... but little is said about a topic that will haunt you every year and is much worse than having to put cabbage leaves in your breasts to relieve milk engorgement: summers with children. Schools close in June. But, Oh, surprise!, your children still exist.

So, like tickets for a Bad Bunny concert, for Easter you already have to start looking for summer camps with places available at transplant prices. I found one for art. On the website it said: “creativity, expression, nature...” and the magic words: shifts from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm. And I paid the reservation. A few months later, when I no longer remembered where I had written them down, a link arrived with the online informational meeting.

The father of the creatures and I connected with pen and paper, trying to project an image of responsible and prepared legal guardians ready to note down all the highlightsWhat would we dazzle the girls with when we told them about the "cool" camp we had chosen for them without consulting them. The camp director introduced herself and started the talk without a PowerPoint. Bad sign.

He gave us an impromptu speech about the importance of art in society and nature that tickled our eyelashes, while we waited with interest for the part about whether we had to bring breakfast in a lunchbox. Afterwards, without having yet specified about the food, he explained the importance of not influencing any artistic decisions of children. If a child wanted to make a figure with clay, they would accompany them. If they wanted to paint a stone, they would accompany them. If they wanted to spend three hours picking their nose in front of a wall, they would also accompany them.

And the lunchbox?

—On Fridays we will have the ecosystems party —he announced with an unsettling serenity. I imagined my daughters asking for the song The brave and powerful Diva to that woman who exuded mindfulness for all the adventurers.

—And we will do activities to communicate with plants —added another monitor, still unaware of what it means to see twenty-five children making him the six-seven to a geranium.

They also explained to us that the meal would be vegetarian, organic, and locally sourced. My daughters, who can detect a chickpea hidden inside a croquette, would spend two weeks connecting with hunger.

—And we will play games in which, for example, we will put ourselves in the perspective of how flies see spaces.

I picked up the pencil and wrote: in the lunchbox carry hallucinogenic mushrooms.

My husband looked at me.

—Hey, don't laugh at the hippies.

The microphone was open. The director smiled and looked at our surnames on the screen.

I discreetly turned off the microphone. And the camera.

Maybe it's better not to give them any spoilers.

They'll find out when summer arrives.