Tomorrow morning, I will have the pleasure of waking up at about 6:45 AM in order to prepare myself to go register Chloe for summer camp. My neighbor, also a dedicated mother, is joining me to register her son as well. We are leaving at 7:30 AM.

It’s a YMCA day camp, and if you don’t register on the one day of their open registration, you’re basically screwed. With a bit of luck, we get there early enough to avoid the huge line, and we’ll be in and out quickly. And our dear children will have marvelous, enriching summers. Because, god forbid, if we don’t provide them with entertaining, unforgettable summers, our kids will end up in therapy for the rest of their lives.

Truthfully, the number of camp options is overwhelming. There are fancy-schmancy day camps that cost upwards of $5K, there are reasonably priced Y camps, there are the camps run by the town and the public schools. There’s the local art museum day camp, there are dancing and acting camps. There are enough local camps that if we lived in a warmer climate, and we didn’t care about whether Chloe attended school, she could go to a different camp every week of the year.