She came walking toward me with that huge, sunburned smile—the camp bracelet still shining around her wrist—and for a moment, I thought I had gotten everything right.
I had sacrificed weekends, skipped sleep, and cut back on little luxuries so my daughter could have one unforgettable summer.
She deserved to be happy.
And she was.
Or at least, that’s what I thought.
Then the camp director pulled me aside.
I expected a complaint about breaking rules. Maybe an argument with another camper. Instead, she told me something that stopped me cold.
My daughter had been volunteering for everything.
She gave up her turns.
She took on other children’s responsibilities.
She apologized when she needed something.
She was working desperately hard to be the easiest, cheapest, least demanding child in the room.
