Could I please be 10 or 12 again? By Mr. Bitter

Youth is wasted on the young. Maya's 7th grade "Colorado trip" is early next month, and on it they will do the following: Camp at the Great Sand Dunes, one of the most weirdly beautiful spots in the entire American West; hike the Dunes; raft the rapids of the Arkansas River at peak runoff; and hike near Mt. Princeton and sit in the Mt. Princeton hot springs. Meanwhile we are busy lining up the girls' summer camp schedule. Madeline will get to spend a week learning about robots and building a robot and putting her robot through an obstacle course and demolition derby; another week at the Denver Art Museum learning to paint and design furniture; and another week in cooking and jewelry making classes. Maya will spend two weeks at an overnight camp where they ride horses, hike and spend overnights under the stars, sing campfire songs and eat massive quantities of home cooking. She will spend another week at a different camp in one of the most stunning portions of the Rockies, hiking, learning archery, rafting the Colorado River and shooting rifles. In choosing these camps, we have also considered and rejected for scheduling reasons day camps that include archaeology digs at the science museum, kayaking and mountain biking sessions, Shakespeare in the park, Spanish immersion and circus acrobatics. All I can hope for is that my children demonstrate the same meticulous regard for my well-being and contentment when they choose my field trips from the nursing home.