Z: Ahh, the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the clowns.

She: It’s Circus Camp time!

Z: I can’t believe they didn’t have this camp when I was a kid. I had to shoot plastic arrows, make God’s Eyes and get poison oak.

She: While Koss gets to learn how to use the trapeze and put together a clown act.

Z: How did you guys pick this camp?

She: Noah, the coolest 15-year-old in Koss’ universe did it, therefore Koss thought it was cool, too.

Z: Our child the iconoclast.

She: All these years of trying to get him interested in theater, and I could have just called Noah and told him to say it was cool.

Z: Circus Camp sounds like theater mixed with gymnastics.

She: Only tougher. I was impressed the first day when the ring master — ring leader? lion tamer? head counselor? — told the kids that the circus was filled with blood, sweat and tears.

Z: I heard him on Parents Day, when he asked how many of the kids had bled so far. About half of them raised their hands.

She: Koss keeps trying to show me his injuries.

Z: Your dad loved this guy. When the kids started whining about how hard one of the apparatuses was, he gave them a speech: “The circus is pain. You will learn from the pain, and the pain will make you stronger.”

She: It’s bizarre that this is the camp where kids aren’t coddled. Who knew that Circus Camp was tougher than Rugby Camp?

Z: Then he made the parents sign a waiver if they wanted to try any of the tricks. Brain scientist that I am, I jumped on that one.

She: Well, you are a natural clown. Did you try on the big shoes?

Z: Nope. I tried the silks, which are those silk ropes that hang 25 feet down from the big top. I watched Koss shimmy up them, and thought, “How hard could that be?”

She: Like the time you tried snow boarding? Or jumping out of a plane?

Z: Apparently, my strength-to-weight ratio is less balanced than Koss’. I got 6 inches up, shouted “Ta Da!” and was out of there.

She: You have no idea how sorry I am that I missed that.

Z: You know you’re jealous.

She: Totally. I love silk, especially when I don’t have to pay to dry clean it. But I am jealous. This camp sounds totally fun.

Z: I’m sort of envious, too, but my mother is probably the most jealous. I think she actually had a childhood fantasy of running away to join the circus.

She: I’ve heard of that before, but never got the appeal. I always assumed you’d have to work your way up from elephant poop scooper to bearded lady to fortune teller. I never would have made it to the trapeze.

Z: Unlike those two little girls who we watched at the final performance last night. No safety net, no nothing, and one of them is hanging by her feet from the other one’s feet.

She: All of the aerial acts were truly amazing.

Z: And there’s nothing quite like the first time a father sees his son in a red nose.

She: Like father like son. A poignant bit of Americana.

Z: It was the greatest show on Earth.

She: Yes, dear.

Share your circus adventures with She and Z at [email protected]