Fatherhood Fail! A Bad Morning

Today was the last day of camp.  Why camp ends at the beginning of August is a not clear to me, since school doesn't start at the beginning of August.

At the wonderful camp my children attend - and it really is nice (not that this stops GoofGirl from complaining) one of the traditions is that the last day is Luau Day.  The festivities begin with each bunk doing a skit.  The skits are usually some combination of funny and cute - the exact ratio depending on the age of the bunk.

As a good Dad with a flexible job, it is my solemn duty to go to this event and videotape it for posterity (future generations will want to know).  Because it was raining, the festivities could not be held in the usual outdoor amphitheater and were instead held in the gymnasium - which unfortunately has the acoustics and airflow of an industrial laundry dryer.

Still, this is a Dad's duty and GoofGirl was pretty excited about her skit - she apparently was the "Slimeslugger" and had to wear a costume that consisted primarily of food coloring.

So I sat on an uncomfortable chair, simmering as I waited for my children's sketches to come up.  I knew GoofBoy's group was early and sure enough I faithfully recorded him and a bunch of his cronies head to the front of the room, yell at each other for a while, put on some music and jump around, and then sit down.  Usually the sketches have some sort of point, but it was very hard to figure it out in the massive din.

Then I sat and waited.  I watched a lengthy series of groups walk to the front of the room and interact incoherently.  I thought of The Cave in Plato's Republic.  Then I had to go to the bathroom.

There were announcements about which group was going next, but in the aural funhouse it was tough to know who was coming or going.  I was sure I had plenty more time - in fact it would be in the natural order of things that if GoofBoy's group went early, GoofGirl's group would be about last.

I knew I would deal with the battering of sound and fury much better with just a brief expedition to the little boy's room.

You know how this went.  If I was there for even three minutes - that was how long GoofGirl's bunk's skit was and I missed it.  She told me it was ok, but she didn't sound it.

I was mad at myself.  This was a test and I had failed.  The flesh was weak.  I could deal with losing a morning of work, but not to see GoofGirl as the Slime-Slugger when that was the whole point of things!

There is nothing to be done about.  GoofGirl was a bit anxious because she had stained her clothes with food coloring and I promised to tell Mama Goof (who takes laundry very seriously) to go easy.  But somehow, this didn't make up for anything.

So be it, I'll just have to learn to live with myself.