It's that lump in my throat I call 'art camp'

This evening our family went to the celebratory picnic at the end of art camp and a number of other grant-funded camps that have been going on during the month of July around town-- sports camp, robotics camp, CSI camp, and food science camp besides our own for art.

Fiona ran into a number of buddies and there were plenty of hugs to go around, as if they hadn't seen each other just yesterday. It was beautiful. I would recognize a little face, ask her what a classmate's name was, then call out a hello to them by name. Fiona was astounded. "How do you know Matthew?!" It was adorable. "Honey, you just told me his name. I see these kids all the time in your studio!"

I expected a crush of people in camp T-shirts. I expected a number of interesting displays. I expected picnic food, a slide show of a month of new techniques and skills, and jolly chatter. Here's what I did not expect... After having dropped off and picked up Fiona and our neighbor Dever at art camp for the past month, and peeking inside her portfolio regularly, I did not expect to see all that student work and get so darn overwrought. The children showed so much joy and delight as they ushered their beloved family members through their works of art and explained how they did something-- or how fun, challenging, or messy it was to complete-- I was so utterly amazed and tickled and grateful that I just had to hug our girl and choke a bit.

On the way home she said, "Miss Fritz is my favorite teacher." Laughingly, I said, "You mean, "except for my Mom, of course." The joke was entirely lost on her, but she seriously said, "Well, my favorite art camp teacher. When will art camp start again?" I find myself counting those days myself.