A good time in my life

Camp was something I would cry and beg not to go to every summer. I thought it would be nice to stay in Toronto and be with my school friends instead and I was afraid to leave home I guess. I would cry and carry on every year...beg, plead, throw tantrums...whatever I could think of to manipulate my parents into not sending me to camp. The funny thing about it was that once I got to camp, I loved it.