a spot right next to the end of the world . . .

. . . if you are a 13-year-old girl.

This morning was almost the end of the world for Younger.

You see, I signed her up for Orchestra Camp. (Gasp. I know. I have marked her as a geek for life. It's Band Camp, for Orch Dorks.) But not really. Her favorite cello teacher went and got her PhD and has spent the last school year teaching at a university in more northern climes. She returned to run this camp, so Younger really did want to go and spend time with her beloved Julianne. Plus it's just a 4.5 hour day-camp for five days. So it's not like "this one time . . . at Band Camp . . . ."

Even Younger said, "I thought I'd hate it. But it's pretty fun." I am so shocked that she's enjoying music theory . . . The "funness" of it might have to do with the cool music selections, including "Viva la Vida" by Coldplay. And as a 13-year-old cellist, you can't get any cooler than that. Listen to the cello line--they are the STARS of that song.

But I digress, this post isn't about how I turned my kid into an Orch Dork. No, it's about how she almost caused herself to dive off the edge of world this morning.

At 8:30 a.m., after a nearly sleepless night (I never should have allowed her to have a friend overnight last night), I told her to load her cello in the car.

I hate this job. It's like putting a coffin in the trunk, only more awkward.

She left the kitchen, returning a few seconds later looking sheepish.

"Um. I think I left it in Britt's car." (Britt is the nanny who doesn't come to work until 10:00, one hour after camp starts.)

There are so many things wrong with this. 1. It's a $2,000+ instrument. I don't love it rolling around in Britt's beater. 2. Stringed instruments are very susceptible to heat and humidity. As such, trunks are bad, bad places for them to live. 3. WE NEED THE STUPID INSTRUMENT . . . NOW!

I do not lose it. (Yeah me!) I tell her to call Britt and see how soon Britt can meet us at the conservatory with the cello. I also explain to Younger that she will have to pay for Britt's extra time. (I love me a teachable moment.) But it turns out, Britt has a life and cannot bring the instrument until 10:00. So Younger will have to be at camp for one hour without her instrument, her music, her theory notes, etc.

Oh em gee.

Did you know that this is the end of the world?

Well it is. If you are a 13-year-old girl.

She tells me she doesn't want to go. "It will be embarrassing." Too bad.

She tries a brief tantrum. Doesn't work.

She offers to pay me for 1/5 of the camp. (I silently acknowledge this as creative problem solving.) I point out that it's picture day, so she needs to be there in her camp t-shirt. This earns me an extra scowl as the shirt is the dorkiest thing about the camp.* Plus, there is a concert on Friday and she'll lose her "seat" and her solo if she skips a day.

We load into the car. She pouts. We drive overnight-friend home.

Suddenly, Younger kicks the dashboard and announces that she's forgotten a notebook, pencil and her snack.

At this stage, I am mightily struggling with not laughing out loud. She is so upset with herself over this situation that it IS comical. I mostly win the struggle but do keep having to look out the driver's window while I fight the creeping grin.

Luckily, we are running early (odd for me). So I drive back home to get the missing items. I will not be foiled in my plan to get this child to Orchestra Camp on this muggy, July day! She climbs back in the car with a notebook and pencil. I remind her of the snack. For this favor, she snaps, "I don't care. I don't want one!" Fine. Camp goes until 1:30. It's her stomach.

As we drive to camp, there are actually crocodile tears running down her face. At one point she tries to mutter an apology to me for being crabby. But then she goes all wacko again . . . any moment I'm expecting her head to spin and get pea soup splattered all over the inside of the car.

I offer to go inside and explain what happened. "No! That will just be worse." Ok. ok. The horror.

We arrive at the conservatory. She wipes the tears. Exits the car. Slams the car door. And storms off.

And this, friends, is my EASY kid. Sigh.

Today you get Yo-Yo Ma in a house; and a house on the edge of the world.

*The back of this sunny yellow t-shirt says, "Come have fun, staying out of the sun!" It comes complete with pictures of a beach ball and umbrella. So yeah, kinda dorky.