Well, camp's been great so far. Hardly any parent complaints, and the ones we do get are minor. The wets-her-pants girl {gasp!} wet her pants again today. Her father came to pick her up and said he told her if she does it again he won't let her come back. Glad he figured that out and I didn't have to tell him. I hate threatening people, because I have a hard time following through. I'm such a bleeding-heart. I can hardly get mad at kids somethimes when they're bad because it really doesn't bother me all that much. I mean, I get over it pretty quick, and I don't tell parents on kids unless it gets really bad. I just yell at them or do whatever is necessary at the time and then let them go play. Don't get me wrong -- I don't let them get away with misbehaving, especially if they might be hurting someone. I just don't let kids get to me. I always had a thing for bad kids anyway; I guess I envy their� well, whatever the word is, cohones, or however you spell it. You know what I mean? I never had the nerve to be bad when I was young. I just talked too much. That's all I ever got in trouble for.

I like to talk. I could go on for hours and never once say anything of any importance. Really, I could. So could my dad. That's where I get it from. Only he's a lot worse than me. He could go on for days. Even if you leave the room he'll follow you and keep talking. He gets it from his father. When he used to call I would sometimes put the phone down for like a full five minutes and come back and he never knew I was gone. He never shuts up, and he doesn't ever let anyone else get a word in.

Oh� did you want to say something?

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