I'm good, but not that good

I don't pretend to be an organized parent. Especially in the mornings. That is why summer is a blessed event in my books. There's no getting lunches ready, or dragging the children out of bed to clean them up. There's no checking homework or signing permission slips. Except for the last two weeks. The children have been enrolled in day camp. Alas, our small town doesn't offer such a program, so I've been dragging them with me to the larger town in which I work and dropping them off before I head to the office.

The first couple of mornings I was prepared. I made them exciting lunches the night before, ensured that they each had a towel and bathing suit, and attempted to slather sun screen on them before we left the house. After that, however, things went downhill. I would sleep in. Or forget to make their lunches. Or forget to give them a towel. Or not send them with a hat.

Every day it's been something different. Luckily, my car is an amazing repository of "things that were never brought back in the house." On the day that it rained, I was able to produce an umbrella from under the passenger seat. On the day that there was a chill in the air, I rummaged around and found a couple of sweaters the children had left in the car. On the day that we forgot to bring hats, I miraculously found two in the trunk. I've even found extra sunscreen in the golf bag Arthur never took out of my trunk.

My children have come to think of my car as the bottomless well of day camp.

Yesterday it became readily apparent that we needed to do some grocery shopping. I was unable to pull together enough appropriate food to make a decent lunch. I announced to the children that we'd get something for them on the way to camp. I was thinking we'd stop at Tim Horton's and pick up some sandwiches or bagels or something.

My daughter looked at me with awe and asked, "You have extra lunches in your trunk?"