Figgy's got the spirit

Start of session 3 - second half of the summer. Today we noticed that one of the parents of a 7th-summer camper wrote a long blog entry from the p.o.v. of a mom wrestling with her daughter's absence and bittersweetly admiring the girl's complete love of Frost Valley. Here is the full blog entry. It's worth reading. And here is an excerpt:

Figgy would get into a funk when she had to come home. She'd cry and sniffle in the back seat of the car, or sulk. She wouldn't talk to us.

It would take a while, and then all the stories would spill out. The tales about the castle, the opening campfire, the closing campfire, the waterfront, the pita pizzas, the ghost stories, the overnight [where they all sleep outside], the hash browns, how much water the counselors make them drink, how Figgy ate five apples one day, spaghetti night, the dance, and a game she loves called ultimate sicko ball, which she says is like capture the flag.

You don't understand, she'd say in a pitiful little voice from the back seat of our car. I will probably never see some of these people again in my life. [True. Her counselors have come from all over, including Holland, Ireland, Cape Cod and California. And I gather that the bonds that are forged, the secrets shared, the fears confronted during those two weeks can be life-changing.]

This is Figgy's seventh year in a row, and her last year as a camper. This is not a pretty picture. She will apply to be a Counselor in Training [CIT] next year, but we hear the competition is thick.

I'm warning you now, she said yesterday, That I might sulk for twenty-four hours, because I'm going to be so sad.