A Littles No Longer

Vocabulary Lesson for today's post:

Littles: the younger grouping of Rutherford children who require more assistance than they are able to give.

OARs: Oldest Available Rutherfords have the ability to accomplish many of the tasks required throughout the day in Rutherford-dom.

Today was the day Tucker has been anticipating for weeks, months, and years. He was taken to Camp Manatawny and left for his very first week of sleep away camp. This is such a milestone in each of the children's lives and Tucker felt the weight of the change. I just didn't realize until later how seriously he took this moment.

We arrived extremely late, with only five minutes left to register Tucker. We had managed to get trapped behind a verrrryyyyyyy sloooooowwwwww truck driver, turning what should have been a 10 minute jaunt into 25 minutes of agony. Moments after we managed to get everyone unloaded, friends of ours pulled in next to us. Now, I love this family (who have six children themselves) but trying to get anything accomplished when our kids combine forces is laughable. They also have a first time camper in their midst. We managed to herd all 12 of the accompanying children into the lower level of Garret Hall where we were the only two families left to register. As I waited my turn I realized that our combined children made as much noise as the entire registration gaggle normally does. I handed the business end while Shelby had the unenviable privilege of quieting the troops. The moment the business was transacted, the kids ran for the vans to grab the gear the boys needed for their week of camp and headed over to their mutual home away from home, Boys Cabin 10.

I always manage to forget how much more is involved in settling in a first time camper. Shelby, Dawson, and Isabelle each hit their cabin, we meet their counselor and then it's a hug, kiss and "See ya' Saturday!" before the kids are ready to part company with us. Not so for a first-timer. You have to help them make their bed and unpack a few choice items. "Here is your dirty laundry bag. Your gross clothes go in here, not on the floor. And this is your toothbrush and toothpaste. Please - take pity on the rest of your cabin mates and use it daily. And about this stack of clean underwear. While I would prefer you change it daily, please at least crumple it up into the dirty clothes on Friday so I think you changed it, okay?"

Shelby had Tucker's bed made in a jiffy while Isabelle helped him organize his cubby for his duffle and shoes. Meanwhile, I was helping him change into his sneakers since Boy's Athletics had already been called and there is very little at camp Tucker was looking forward to more than Athletics. Just about the time we wrapped up serving Tucker, his counselor was free so we finally made all the introductions. And that was that. Time for goodbye.

I never know how each child will respond at this moment. I seem to always guess wrong, so while my head said Tucker would have a hard time given all the nervous questions he had been asking, experience was telling me the kid wouldn't even notice. Experience was right. He was hugging and kissing the whole crew goodbye, completely prepared and anxious for his adventure to begin. And then it happened.

Abigail became a weeping mess. "Tucker can't stay here! He can't!" She began to cry in earnest.

I shot Shelby a dumbfounded look, which she was mirroring. I knelt beside Abigail and asked her what she was talking about.

"Tucker can't stay! He's a little!"

I tried to explain it to her. "Honey, Tucker is staying at Camp just like Dawson. Remember - we picked up Dawson this morning? Tucker will come home."

"But Dawosn is my BIG OAR brother. Tucker is my littles brother. He's a little like me! HE CAN'T STAY!"

I was so completely caught off guard I was silent. And in my moment of silence came Tucker to the rescue. He gently lifted her up into his arms and she clung to his neck while wrapping her legs around his waist. He craned his neck way back so he could see her face and explained the situation to her as only a big brother could.

"Abigail, I'm an OAR now. I'm not a Little any more. It's time for me to go to camp. I'm a brother for you like Dawson now. I love you and you'll be alright." And he set her down. She gazed up at him with eyes still dewy and said simply, "Alright Tucker. Have fun." And that was that. He stayed with his cabin and we walked to the van, loaded up, and left the camp that I now realized has become a symbol of reaching OARdom for our kids.

And so, my son is a littles no more. He is officially an OAR. Welcome aboard, Master Rutherford.