Soapbox

Mosquito Valley

So I’ve got this kid…

and he went off for a week at Scout camp for the first (and maybe the last) time. He had gone round and round about whether he would go or not, but in the end decided to attend for the mature, sensible reason that he didn’t want to be the only boy from the pack that didn’t go.
We took him to camp on Sunday and settled him into his tent, with his belongings arranged neatly under his cot. When we left, the pack was getting ready to go swimming and he as running around the campsite with his towel draped over his shoulders being "Super Scout" the super hero. It looked like he was ready to have a good time. However, he doesn’t like changes, and he is prone to homesickness. So the next morning when we woke up I joked to Ted, "Well, 12 hours and no phone call from Stephen, ha ha!"

On Tuesday evening at 9:15 the phone rang. Collect from Stephen, will you accept the charges? Oh, this cannot be good.

A tremulous voice said, "Mom…?"
(Sigh, attempt to sound cheerful and not doom-ridden,) "What’s up, buddy?"
"Well…well, I have about 72 mosquito bites and a spider bit me on the leg and now it’s all swelled up and I haven’t eaten anything at all but peanut butter and jelly because the food is really weird here, and… and I’m really sorry, but I lost my watch, I don’t know how and… and I"m miserable and I hate it and I want to come ho-o-omme!"

As a mother, my first concern was for the spider bite, but Dad thought another tack was called for and signaled me for the phone.
"Hey pal, what merit badges have you been working on?" he asked. "…Yeah, being homesick is no fun is it, but did you pass your swim test? Great! What else have you been working on?….really? That sounds interesting…yeah, that sounds like fun, Stephen."
And I heard our son say "Oh yeah, it’s kind of cool- except…" he caught himself quickly "…except that I hate it and want to come home."

After some discussion we all agreed that I would come out to camp the following evening for Visitor’s Night just to cheer him up, but not to bring him home. After all, camp would be half-over by then.
Of course I spent half of that night worrying about the child and the next morning deciding what sort of care package to bring along. I decided on mosquito netting for his cot, another bottle of (stronger) bug repellent, the latest copy of his "Muse" magazine subscription, a baloney and cheese sandwhich and a bottle of Snapple.
So armed, two other mothers and I carpooled out to the camp that evening. We walked from the van to the campsite and were greeted by our boys- and a cloud of insects that rose from the grass as we walked. Gnats? We quickly realized that they were mosquitos! Swarms of mosquitos!
"Yeah, they sprayed the other day and I think it just made ’em worse" one of the boys said, as we mothers took it all in.

"My God Stephen, you are covered with bites!"I exclaimed in horror. "I have never seen anything so awful!" He wasn’t exaggerating about the 72 bites and had gotten a few more in the interim. He pulled up his pants leg and showed me the pustules where the spider had gotten him. One of the other moms was exclaiming, "Good heavens Willie- what happened to you? How can one human have so many bites?"

"Me and Willie are an all-you-can-eat bug buffet!" Stephen announced with a grin. We whipped out bottles of "Off" and began slathering everyone.
"You know, if those boys would use more of that stuff, they wouldn’t have so many bites" the scoutmaster commented. No, really? And it would kill you to remind them once in a while? They are 11 year old boys, after all.

I got out the mosquito netting and headed to the tent. Nearly every belonging the child had with him was strewn on his side of the tent. All his dirty clothes we on the floor. I also noticed that almost all his clothes were still in his duffle bag.
"Have you changed your clothes at all since you got here?" I asked, picking up his crumpled uniform shirt from the floor and hanging it on the clothesline we had put up for just that purpose. He just scratched his nose, and a few other places. I tossed his damp swim trunks and towel at him and said "Go hang these outside while I put up your netting." As an afterthought I plucked his tentmate’s wet stuff off of his cot and handed them out as well. "Then get back in here and pick up all your cards off the floor. And re-assemble your flashlight, so it will work tonight if you need it." Sheesh.

Now fully in "Mom" mode, I set about rigging the netting (something I got good at after a summer spent as a girl scout camp councelor) and getting Stephen to straighten up his tent while he regaled me with stories of classes taken, skits around the camp fire and merit badges in progress. He was having fun, and I got the impression that, despite a little homesickness, he wouldn’t have made that frantic phone call if he wasn’t to miserable from the bugs. It’s probably hard to be mature when you’re miserable.

When all the housekeeping chores were done I got out his soap so we could wash for supper, and noticed that his toothbrush was suspiciously dry.
"Child, have you brushed your teeth lately?"
"Uh…" I’ll take that as a "no". 11 years of teaching them: brush your teeth, change your underwear, take a shower… and then 3 days at camp and it’s all out the window!
"When I get home," he said as he brushed and scrubbed, "I’m going to go to the refrigerator and drink all the cold water I want. Then I"m going to flush the toilet over and over, just to hear the sound of good old indoor plumbing!" At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

We went up to dinner at the dining hall and had hot dogs and watermelon, and refilled the empty water bottle I found under his cot while he was complaining about being thirsty all the time. Then, just to prove that he wasn’t exaggerating about not eating enough, he polished off the baloney and cheese too, and drank the snapple. Before the indian dancing started, we discussed ways he could keep himself cheerful until camp was over.
As we said our goodbyes he got a bit teary-eyed, but gave me a thumbs-up when I hugged him.
One of the other pack mothers was not faring so well. Her son howled, "Mom, take me with you! Don’t go without me!"
"Stephen" I whispered, "Maybe you should help Cody keep his spirits up- cause his mom isn’t going to take him home tonight." So he went and put an arm on his friend’s shoulder.
"Hey Cody, it’s only a couple more days. By tomorrow morning camp will be nearly over anyway. The rest will be easy!"

Yeah, I think he’ll make it alright. The last 2 mornings, after I wake up, I close my eyes and say "Stephen, this is your mother, sending you a mental message. Put on your bug repellent!"

And while you’re at it- change your underwear.