So, the last week of camp I had really dumb kids and a sick kid. Now I'm going to tell about the most dramatic change in favoritism I've ever experienced.
The youngest and smallest kid in my cabin started out as my favorite kid in my cabin. He was so sweet and cute, I couldn't help but make him my favorite. He'd give me hugs for no reason, hold my hand whenever we walked anywhere, and he even had a cute little voice. But then things went south real fast, and it all started when I decided to bring my cabin on a pontoon ride.
It was a windy day and, consequently, there were some waves. Once in a while, some globules of water would splatter on us in the pontoon. When the first one hit my lil' favie, he dropped the f-bomb, as in, "What the (f-bomb)?" Kris, the waterfront director, called him out on it.
"Did you just drop the f-bomb?"
"...No."
"I'm pretty sure I heard you drop the f-bomb."
"No, I said, "What the...frick."
"No, I heard the f-bomb."
"I said-"
"You know what - I don't care. Just don't say any more things that start with "What the," okay?"
"But I didn't-"
"I don't care! Just don't do it!"
After that, he quickly descended my rankings of favorite camper. By the end of the week, the only time he would talk to me was when he was tattling on someone, and he talked to me a lot. He'd tattle on anyone for anything. One night for devotions, Drew and I integrated our cabins and did bro-tips. Being very bro-ish in nature, both of us had a good amount of combined bro-knowledge. I feel like we passed on a lot of useful tips such as, but not limited to, always lift the seat when you pee, respect the ladies, call girls 'pretty.' 'beautiful,' or 'cute' instead of 'hot,' be nice to your friends' parents, etc. After we ran out of tips, Drew took his kids back to their cabin. As they were leaving, I gave them all high-fives. Once the last of Drew's kids were in their cabin, my lil' no-longer-favie came up to me.
"Um, Joe?"
"Yes?"
"Um, you know that kid you just high-fived?"
"Yeah?"
"Um, the one with the red hair?"
"Yeah. What about him?"
"Um, well, he steals things from other kids."
"(To myself, in my head) 'Ohhhh my goodness. No he doesn't. You need to stop tattling.' Sigh...Okay. Thanks for telling me that. Now go to bed."
And yes, he did start every sentence with "Um."
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