Eating Spunk While The Kiddo Is Away At Camp.

That's a horrible title, obviously using shock value to generate interest, so let me explain.

We got some of that Fundraiser Cookie Dough the other day.

The cookies tasted DELICIOUS!

I’m torn though.

Otis Spunkmeyer? Really?

Anytime you have “Spunk” in your name, people should be suspicious of your baked goods.

My oldest is off to camp for a week.

First time he’s been away from home for that long by himself.

I was getting concerned about how he would fair without mom & dad.

Would he be scared?

Would he get home sick?

Would he get injuried?

Would I have to make an emergency 3 hr trip back down here in the middle of the night to get him?

Then we got to camp.

And he saw all the pretty young girls also attending camp.

 And said, “This.Is.Awesome!”

Now, I worry about other things for other reasons.

Speaking of co-ed camps, I noticed a stark discrepancy in the treatment of the sexes.

See, while looking for the main registration cabin, we accidently found ourselves in one of the girl’s cabins.

I say it was a cabin because that’s what they call them.

And it looked vaguely cabin-esque.

On the outside.

On the inside, we entered a huge common area that was carpeted, with delicate colored walls, and was nicely appointed with couches, TV’s, and soft lighting.

They even had soft music playing in the back ground.

Off of the common area were several compartments/rooms with several bunkbeds in each. Each also outfitted with carpet, collored walls, and soft lighting.

Outside each compartment was a posterboard with the girls names staying in each room, written in sparkly marker.

It had a frilly name, like The Butterfly Taj Mahal or something unicorny.

After realizing our mistake, we located the registration building, checked in, and were told to head up the hill to the red cabin at the top.

Upon arriving at the cabin, it was evident that little had changed since Grizzly Adams had built the thing with Daniel Boone.

Definite log cabin that had been painted red on the outside. 

The cabin was named 666 or something.

We walked in and felt like we were still outside.

Exposed log walls.

Barely any light, except for a single hanging bulb.

The floors were concrete or hardpacked dirt. It was too dark to tell which.

There were four compartments, each of which slept 8.

The place smelled musty, with hints of urine.

The best part was the room signs.

Names were handwritten in pencil on ripped-out notebook paper.

No sparkly markers anywhere.