This week is one of my favorites. There is a day camp for children that I get to be part of. With my trusted guitar and a basket of instruments I lead them in a medley of songs that keep our toes tapping.

Need I go on? 

I find it remarkable really, that the magic seems to work year after year. Children who may not go about their day like Von Trapp children, harmonizing in canoes and on the Austrian alps, cannot resist the rhythms and rhymes that make it worth opening your mouth on a hot summer morning. 

I fall in love with the faces that look up at me: the brown eyes, the curly hair that refuses to behave, the shy smiles. Many of the songs have hand motions, and even if the words come too fast for a three year old they mimic the pantomime easily. Never yet has a preschooler complained that we did that song already. 

Parents get an impromptu concert if they arrive a tad early to pick their daughters and sons up. But it is as far from a performance as you can get. The kids have no awareness of being watched, or evaluated. They sing for the sheer joy of singing. I do not lead the games rotation, or the theater slot but I suspect they are similarly fueled by enthusiasm rather than any kind of reward. 

One day we played with water. Sprinklers, water balloons and sponge toss were all excuses to get wet. Because how great is it to take a shower with your play clothes on?

In a world that spins on the matrix of money, I cherish the respite. It hopefully bleeds into my regular routine, when I have been known to want credit for every time I take out the trash.