Hit or miss with some of the writing (bonus points for using ‘quotidian’ though). Maybe it’s because I never attended summer camp and so never formed those intense kinds of familial bonds with anyone but my actual family but a lot of the story seemed just oh too precious. This stood out though:
“When you have a child,” she’d recently said to Jules, “it’s like right away there’s this grandiose fantasy about who he’ll become. And then time goes on and a funnel appears. And the child gets pushed through that funnel, and shaped by it, and narrowed a little bit. So now you know he’s not going to be an athlete. And now you know he’s not going to be a painter. Now you know he’s not going to be a linguist. All these different possibilities fall away.”
So relieved that those emotionally chaotic, everything is crucial, nobody gets it days are far behind me.