We picked up Bubba at the conclusion of his two-week stay at sleepover camp. As has been the case in the past, he was happy to see us, but in mourning about leaving camp. This sends his mother and me into a fit of competitiveness. We pull out all the stops to make sure that our family is every bit as fun as summer camp. Which is not really possible, and certainly not sustainable.

Nevertheless, over the weekend we gave it our best shot. We went to the grandparents’ house, swam in a waterfall pool, went out on their boat, then came home to a big bash at our place with a huge inflatable water slide. Maybe it was no “blob” but still pretty cool.

(We didn’t actually throw the party — just donated the yard as a venue, and manned the grill for the fajitas. This is by far the best way to have a party at your house, btw.)

Camp is tough. I really miss the big guy. My wife asserts that it’s a good way for us to learn some “letting go,” and I know this to be true. I know that the independence — freedom from us is essential. And I think we are generally pretty good at giving him room to be his own person. But I definitely have got to give him some more room to grow up.

I realize this as I take the huge spill-prone bag of cereal out of his hands and pour it for him. “Let me give you a hand with that,” I say and I watch his shoulders sag. He’s been so in change of himself, and with that gesture, I took away a big chunk of his stand-alone-ness and reminded him that he was the kid in this house. Bad call on my part. He’s big enough to take care of himself, and, if he makes messes, to clean them up himself.

So, from now on, I have a strict hands-off policy when it comes to breakfast cereal.

Did Don address this issue in his Lab today?