Every week, the Health Counselor comes out and gives a little spiel in which she reminds everyone that it is hot, and that water should be ingested as often as possible throughout the week to avoid any dehydration. She then adds an incentive: whichever company drinks the most water, and tells her about it in the most creative / funny / cool way, will have the grand privilege of pouring a cooler of ice-cold water on their counselors.
The kids love it. They make up skits, songs, and poems. They bring their empty water bottles to the health counselors as a sort of [unburnt] burnt offering. They write letters, draw pictures, and break into spontaneous cheers to demonstrate their commitment to, and affection for, water.
The counselors also love it. They buy their kids colorful post cards and encourage them to write love letters to water on them. They stand by the cooler every mealtime, making sure that everyone in their company gets a water bottle. They stand around in patches of shade, fanning themselves, chattering about how they hope their company wins.
And then, there's me. The lone counselor who doesn't get into it. The black sheep who, shockingly, doesn't want water poured on me. The odd duck who actually encourages her group to grab soda and skip the water table.
My first week, I was just kind of quiet about it. I didn't actively discourage my group from trying to win. My opposition to the program showed itself in a tiny sigh of relief when another company won and I watched a counselor, who was not me, get soaked.
This week, I couldn't even contain myself. I don't know why! I just couldn't bring myself to keep my head down! So I told my group, straight-up, that I did not want to win the water challenge. I told them honestly how I felt about having water poured on me, how sad I feel when my hairs and makeup get all messed up. I looked earnestly into their eyes as I told them my concerns.
Then I.....pooped out a box of fruit roll-ups?
Well I don't know why, but for some reason, my pleas fell on deaf ears. And while I spent the first half of the week frantically begging them to put the [water] bottle down, they spent that time chugging and gulping and asking for refills. Also, my co-counselors got way into it.
I was so alone.
Luckily, one person was on my side: Alaura, the health counselor. The decider of the winning company, and as it follows, the decider of my fate. She stood to announce the winners, and once again, I experienced the joy of seeing another (6) counselors get soaked.
I walked away from another water challenge, happily dry.
My loss might have gone to my head a little tiny bit. I might have said a few little things like, "Hey guys, remember that time we lost the water challenge?" and "Whew, good day to lose the water challenge!"
My happiness got a little smudged when the boys formed a huddle and refused to let the girls know what they were talking about. Since I obviously had the Spirit with me, I had an inkling that they were plotting a way to dump water on me. And this inkling made me a little paranoid.....
.....which paranoia manifested itself in the form of me refusing to go anywhere without my phone and me yelling at my boys that they couldn't pour water on me because they would get my phone wet if they did.
The next day, I was sitting at lunch, happily eating, when one of the boys came over to me. "Heather, can I see your phone?" he asked, eyes wide.
My heart jumped. (But not like that.)
"NO!" I shouted, clutching it closer.
"I just want to put my number in it - " he continued.
"I know what you want!" I cried. "You just want to take away my phone so you can pour water on me! But it's not going to happen!" I pulled my iPad out and put that securely in my lap too, just for extra safety.
In a few minutes, I was happily eating my dinner and back to normal conversation with my kids. I didn't notice Saxey inching closer to me.
And then - "GET HER!" he shouted, scooping up my iPad and phone and running away with them.
"No!" I screamed, and jumped to my feet. The first wave of water came crashing into my face and I ran blindly, trying to get away from the attack.
I ran straight into a fence. Where I stood for what seemed like five minutes, sadly holding my dinner, trying to turn in any direction where I could avoid the splashes. Of course, there was no avoiding it. As it came to an end, I heard a voice from my left.
"Oh my goodness, what are you guys doing to poor He -"
Papa G's faux-sympathetic reprimand was cut short as my unfinished potatoes and BBQ sauce exploded on his face in a glorious meeting of food and skin.
He deserved it. He was the mastermind. I'm not sorry :)
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