Camp W. p.s.

What is the one thing you always hope for at camp?

The perfect, toasty brown marshmallow? The melty, chocolaty smores? That nice, even tan? A feeling of peace and restoration that will carry you for weeks, having rearranged the inner workings of your entire being?

How about poison ivy?

That was what Maya saw fit to acquire at camp. Three doses of prednisone later she is finally coming out of the puffy, I-want-to-chew-my-fingers-off stage and seems to be on the mend... And thankfully divine intervention saw fit that she contained this ultra-contagious rash to her own little body.