Summer Camp for Big Kids

I don't know how many times as if I've felt like I was 12 again, and as if I'm dead stuck in the weeks leading up to two weeks away from home, absolutely TERRified. I've decided that early frightening childhood movies instilled a fantastic separation anxiety en generale dans le Workoff (c'est moi). Wasn't Bambi. Wasn't E.T. (which I could make a bold fucking case for). I think it was that goddamned Land Before Time, where that young un' brontosaurus, if memory serves, gets separated from his long neck-ed mom by a river of lava.

Now I'm not saying that this specific magma- ridden scenario has plagued my young heart all these years and caused me to dread big- time summer camp- like periods of going away for fear that I will have to spend an entire movie with the equivalent of that little shit of a puh- terodactyl as a sidekick, but I'm feeling a little bit of that brontosaurus anxiety/ sadness at the prospect of trekking out into that big summer camp called FRANCE.

I didn't think that I'd use the internet of all things to be specifically poignant, but hey, you know this kid. She can't help getting her head 'round the stuff that makes all the kiddies go "Dites- quoi?"

Ultimately though, I've had enough parent types (mostly contemporaries, dese kids MY AGE), say "Oh, you'll have a great time, and by the time Francecamp ends, you'll be having so much fun that you won't want to come home."

Thanks my widespread family of moms (MY AGE) and I'll be sure to make all y'all birdfeeders made out of pinecones slathered in pate.