Again, it’s 5:30 am. Last full day of Cousin Kamp. I am taking stock of my old body and brain. Checking all the parts. Grateful I still have ear drums. Amazed that I am still alive.

While we drove home last night from the neighbor’s pool, I thought it wise to inform Marion of an idea that came to me while covering my ears during a game of bingo. Just in case there’s a NEXT YEAR.

“Ya know. The people who do church camp all the time only offer to keep 1st and 2nd graders for two and a half days. There’s a reason they do this.”

“You agreed to this,” she says. “Sunday to Saturday,” she repeats. “It’ll be fun, you said.”

I also used to say that I wanted 9 of my own children. Enough to field a baseball team.

Men are idiots.

It’s funny how quickly you forget things when you’re not around them on a daily basis. Like, I forgot Calculus a long time ago. I’ve forgotten how to conjugate verbs in Spanish. These are things I don’t really miss. And, until this week, I had forgotten what it’s really like to be in charge of a group of primary age kiddos living together in close quarters.

Some of you have called Marion and I brave for even thinking of this camp. Some of you have confessed that the very idea of doing a camp like this makes your bladder quiver uncontrollably. What I’ve heard no one say is, “Ghee, we should try this with our grandkids.”

Before you plan your own, be forewarned.

If you’re smart and in charge of Cousin Kamp, you set rules. Kids love rules. They pay very close attention to everything the adult in charge says. At Cousin Kamp, the adults are never questioned or pushed to the edge of total insanity.

Rule: Be polite. No one should be rude to one another.

Response: He hit me in my back, and I told him he was a butt head.

Rule: Always share. There’s plenty of toys and games for everyone to have fun together.

Response: That’s not fair. He took my truck, and I said I wanted the blue truck first.

Rule: Snacks will be limited. We’re not eating junk all day long between meals.

Response: Can I have brownies and ice cream now?

The brownie and ice cream question comes exactly 12 seconds after an undisclosed kid gets down from the table, food left on the plate, declaring that her stomach is gonna explode if she eats another bite.

Feeding a troop of kids is a daunting task. Plan what you will. Fill up the menu for the week with kid friendly meals. You will still fail to please everyone. No one will sing your praises.

You remember the 1960’s TV ads when the June-Cleaver-like mom would put a frozen dinner on the table in front of hungry children, and all the kids would look on with excitement and say things like, “You’re the best, Mom.” Everyone ate and danced for joy.

They lie.

What we got was, “Can I have brownies and ice cream now?”

We fixed hot dogs, and nearly got shot. French toast almost caused a French rebellion. Cheeseburgers. “I hate cheeseburgers.” You’d think they’d all like pizza rolls. Barf sounds. Homemade mac & cheese. “I want the creamy kind you stir in a bowl.”

Funny thing. They’ve moaned and made faces all week. But they’ve eaten and they’re not dead. Not yet. There’s still 24 hours to go.

I had forgotten several other things that I had to relearn.

Kids love to scream. Screaming is an auto response to almost anything. Win at Bingo. Scream. Song on the radio in the truck. Scream. Get mad because someone looked at you wrong. Scream. Just cause you’re feeling it. Scream.

It will likely take weeks for my ear drums to heal. I’m pretty confident that post traumatic dreams will haunt me. I’ll wake up in a sweat, screaming mouths surrounding my pillow on all sides.

Kids will bicker over anything. She touched me. I called it first. He rode in the back seat last time. Since she got to choose the last movie, can I choose this one? I don’t like that kind. It’s not fair.

And, of course, “Can I have brownies and ice cream now?”

Then there are the moods and injuries to deal with. We have not seen any actual blood during this week of camp, but the trauma-and-drama these kids create should win an Oscar.

“Can I have a Band-Aid?”

“For what?”

Kid shows me his finger.

“I can’t see anything?”

“Right there.”

“Point to it.”

“Right there.”

“I think you’ll live.”

Most all injuries are accidents. We know this because whenever the injured party points to the accused party, the alleged offender pleads innocence on the basis of “it was an accident.”

And O’ Lawd, the moodiness. I have been witness to more pouty faces in the last 5 days than I care ever to see again. Someone didn’t get their way. Someone got left out. Someone got their feelings hurt. Someone was tired of playing with so-and-so. Someone was mean to me.

Also, like when they ask, “Can I have brownies and ice cream now?” And they are told “no” for the millionth time.

It would be totally unfair for me to make you think that I have hated Cousin Kamp. I’m just merely listing some of the lessons that have come back to me since my days of raising my own kids. Lessons that remind me why God gave fulltime kids to young folks and borrowed time with grandkids to old folks.

What I have learned as a result of Cousin Kamp is a renewed appreciation for all parents. Molding little minds and shaping little attitudes is so important. You want them to deal with conflict in a constructive way. You want them to deal with disappointment and not be sour on the world. You want them to know how to make friends and not judge the faults of others. You want them to see the good in the world.

This is work that tries a man’s patience.

I texted my daughter one night. I sent a GIF of a man rubbing his face, his eyes showing signs of giving up.

She sent back to me: “Where’s your fortitude man? You got this.”

I do have this. Marion and I have this together.

We are on the downhill side. In less than 24 hours the kids will be gone. The house will be quiet. The memories will linger. The pictures will tell the story.

We may need to evaluate the concept, for next year. If there is a Cousin Kamp II, it might not be 7 days. I hear that shorter camps make for healthier grandparents. And I am all about keeping myself in good shape for as long as I can.

I want to be able to enjoy these kids for a lot more years, yet. I still have a little fire left.

But right now, I need a snack.

Brownies with ice cream sounds good to me.