Happy boy

As spring break drew nigh, Mark grew increasingly excited. I tried to be equally excited for him, but my overwhelming emotion was more...fretful.

I didn't know what to do with Mark, childcare-wise. I'd just used all my vacation time on a cruise, so I couldn't take the week off like I usually did. I couldn't leave Mark at my brother's--his kids had their break two weeks prior. Ditto for his friend Tyler, who had his spring break the week before.

"Any of your friends going to day camp?" I asked, hopefully.

"Nope," Mark answered. "Their parents are all teachers, so they just stay home."

At 14, Mark's old enough to stay home by himself now, he reminded me. Which I know, but he's too social to stay home alone a whole week. He begged, promising to just play video games the whole time and not get into trouble.

But I was completely against that. Besides the obvious reason (FIVE days straight of video games? IN YOUR DREAMS, MARK!), I knew that he'd actually get bored after a couple hours by himself. Meaning I'd spend the entire week fielding calls like this:

"Hi, Mom, it's Mark. When are you coming home?"

"I'll be home at 6, Mark, just like I always am."

And then...repeat. Repeat that phone call and answer ad nauseum every hour of every day for that entire week.

Um...no.

Finally, I ran out of options.

"You've gotta go to camp," I finally said. I felt bad, because he'd probably be the oldest kid there, but I didn't have a choice. "Sorry."

"Awwwwww..." Mark groaned, mostly bummed that I'd crushed his video game marathon.

I dropped him off the first day of camp, and to my horror, he WAS the oldest kid there. But it didn't slow him down--he rushed away from me, joining some younger kids shooting baskets.

He was filthy and exhausted when I picked him up.

"Did you have fun?" I asked.

"I ate ALL my snacks!" he said, proudly waving an empty one-gallon plastic bag.

"Those were for the entire week!" I gasped. Seriously, there were like 25 pre-packaged snacks in there!

"I'll re-fill it when I get home," he shrugged.

"What else did you do?"

"Played b-ball," he said. "I was dunkin' like donuts! This one kid Connor got all mad I wouldn't pass to him."

"Would it kill you to pass the ball?" I said. "You know...being a team player?"

"Pshhh," Mark replied, shooting imaginary baskets. "I was open. I wasn't gonna pass and let him miss when I had a clear shot. I kept running it in and boom! Buckets for days."

"Did you play in the gym or outside?" I asked.

"Both," he said. "All day long. It was AWESOME! My legs kinda hurt now, but it was totally worth it."

The best part was the outdoor baskets were for smaller kids, and were only a foot taller than Mark. He looked like a giant playing them, and he repeatedly slam-dunked the ball every chance he got.

He did a few other activities--like swimming and rollerskating--which he didn't like as much. Swimming was okay, but he only skated for 15 minutes before he fell on his tailbone and quit.

But his best days were spent at the park, playing--you guessed it--more basketball. The kid seriously cannot get enough.

"I played basketball eight hours a day," he told me. "And I ate a whole bag of snacks every day." He stared dreamily into the air, sighed happily, and said, "Best. Week. EVER."

The funniest part was after Mark returned to school the next week. I asked what his friends did for spring break, and he scoffed.

"They just played video games all week," he said, shaking his head. "Boring!"

And though it took all my restraint, I kept my mouth shut. Buckets for days, indeed.