The Boring Word About Away from Home

June 11, 1986

Over the weekend I packed my twelve year old off with the Girl Scouts for six days in Washington, D.C. While confident she will have a good time, be kept too busy to get homesick and has excellent chaperones to ensure a safe trip, I still have a few misgivings.

How will she possibly get up in the morning without our dog to pounce on her and wash her face?

How will her towels dry with no mother around to pick them up off the bathroom floor each night?

Will she survive on cheeseburgers and pizza for lunch and dinner for six days?

With no little sister around how will she vent all her hostilities when she can’t find her toothbrush and her shoes disappear?

Will she actually wear a different outfit each day or bring home a suitcase of clean clothes?

Is somebody really going to answer her “When are we going to get there question,” every fifteen minutes throughout the trip?

Can she possibly manage six days without TV AND her box?

The last thing I did before she stepped onto the bus was go over the procedure for making a collect call home. She looked at me in amazement and asked “Why would I want to do that?”