Carline Rules (From Someone Who’s Done This 2,704 Times)

Ah, Summer Camp.
Eight glorious weeks of “routine”… in the loosest sense of the word.

Sure, it’s consistent technically—but it marches to a completely different rhythm. Like a drumline with zero percussion training.

Camp hours are just off enough to throw my whole daily groove out of whack. So we wing it more than normal. Every day. All summer long.

Lunch boxes turn into coolers. Water bottles are suddenly half-gallon jugs.
There are snack bar days, hot lunch days, and Rita’s Fridays. (Non-Philly folks: Rita’s = water ice = Italian ice = frozen happiness.)

But you know what I cannot stand?
First Day of Camp Carline.

Let me be clear: I am a Certified Carline Professional. Yes, that’s a thing. Because I said so.🙂
I’ve put in the hours.
Eight years. 169 school days per year. Twice a day. That’s 2,704 carlines.

We live in the city, and thanks to the ongoing bus driver drought, the school district pays me to chauffeur my own kids.
$300 a month. For 10 months.
Go ahead, do the math. That’s Christmas covered. And maybe some of Hanukkah. No way I’m giving that up.

Now, I realize suburbia is a different world—one where buses are a birthright and carline is an exotic summer experience.

And boy, does it show.

They get out of the car.
They unbuckle their kids.
They open the door for them.
They give them ten hugs and twelve kisses.

Then, once the child is safely delivered to their “tribe,” they wave and blow kisses like they’re sending them off to college.

Meanwhile, camp staff are doing their best “move it along, ma’am” hand gestures and visibly aging by the second.

If this is you, don’t worry. I’m here to help.
Welcome to your Carline Crash Course:

Rule #1: Pre-Unbuckle

You’re going 5mph max. We used to ride home from the pool lying in the trunk of the station wagon with no seat belts, no supervision.
They’ll be fine. Trust me.

Rule #2: Backpack Up & Ready

Backpacks should be on, water bottles in hand, hats already on heads. When the door opens is not the time to start packing. That ship should have sailed 30 seconds ago.

Rule #3: Exit = Olympic Event

This is not a gentle climb. It’s a dash. A sprint. A ninja roll, if necessary.
Style points awarded for efficiency, not drama.

Rule #4: Keep Rollin’

The car does not need to come to a full stop. This isn’t the DMV.

Rule #5: Stay. In. The. Car.

Do not get out.
I repeat: DO NOT get out.
Your door opening causes a ripple effect of chaos the likes of which only preschoolers with pool noodles can rival.

Follow these steps, and I promise: your next carline experience will be faster, smoother, and far less likely to involve glares from seasoned pros like me. Godspeed out there.

Got a rookie carline story or a tip from the trenches? Drop it in the comments—I’m building a support group.
And if you found yourself nodding (or eye-rolling) along, go ahead and share this with your favorite carline offender. Consider it a public service.

Here’s to faster drop-offs, fewer door swings, and keeping your sanity one summer morning at a time.