Fibbing For Camp

Forgive me, I'm an idiot.

That was the subject line in the email I just sent to the fancy family resort that we hope to escape to this summer.

I, um, lied about Delaney and Hayden's birthdate just so they could be classified as Junior Midgets, rather than Senior Toddlers. The cut-off is 30 months and our babies won't quite make it.

I've read about Mothers Like That, who lie about their kids ages just to get them into the right school or class or, well, summer camp. And now I am one.

Mike thinks I'm crazy.

But you'd have done it too, believe me, if you'd spent the last 14 days pouring over the Tyler Place reviews on Trip Advisor and http://www.wejustgotback.com/. This resort gets hundreds of 5.0 ratings from families all over the country as the best place EVER to go with kids. The program sounds phenomenal, like a once-in-a-lifetime hands-on experience even if you're just 2 (or nearly 2.5). (Check it out at http://www.tylerplace.com/.)

It's not that I want Delaney and Hayden to grow up faster (well, maybe I'm stretching the truth there, too). It's just that I want them to have the Splash Pad and the Marionettes and the Fleet of Red Wagons and Tipi and the Treehouse (whatever that is). Plus a dress-up party and tending their own organic garden. All the outings to children's museums that we can't have while we're living on an island, packed into one glorious summer week.

But I've been consumed by guilt over my little white birthday lie and confessed (online, of course -- who could make a phone call like that?). Now I'm waiting to see if I've gotten us banished from the waiting list or relocated to an even more remote corner of the camp. (We're already booked at a full 10-minute walk to Lake Champlain and more significantly, to the dining hall. But at least we're there.)

Or if we're not banished, I surely will be branded as the Lunatic Liar from Somewhere South of the Border.

What makes this even more amusing is that I'm the girl WHO HATES CAMP and actually ran away from my dorm the one time I went (at the tender age of 15). I walked for what seemed to be miles just to find my parents at their hotel, relieved at last to be back in reassuring surroundings (and closer to amenities).

And here I am choosing, as the dream vacation from our permanent island vacation, a family camp back in New England.

Go figure.

At least now my conscience is clear. Delaney and Hayden will be 30 months at the end of August. Their days as Junior Midgets are just beginning.