The drive takes an hour, and Leah doesn’t have anything to occupy herself with, so she decides to take a nap. When they arrive, an employee gently shakes her awake. Leah and the other campers are ushered off the bus, their diapers checked on the way out. Leah is one of a handful who is not wet or messy, a fact she is proud of before reminding herself that she’s only dressed as a baby. She isn’t actually young enough to need a diaper.
Those who need diaper changes are led elsewhere. Leah and the others with dry diapers are brought to their cabin. Apparently, the older campers are divided based upon potty training. While none of the children are expected to be fully potty trained, the counselors think it best to group children who need more frequent changes together. The drive is used as a measure of how potty trained the campers are.
“All right, bunnies, here’s your cabin!” chirps one of the three counselors for Leah’s cabin. They’re ushered inside. Leah’s jaw drops. It looks like a strange cross between a nursery and the kind of camp cabin she’s used to. Part of her is sad to see that she won’t be sleeping in a bunk bed. But at least she won’t be sleeping in a crib; the beds in the cabin are designed for toddlers. “You kiddies get to use the big kid beds!”
“And to help you keep those diapies dry, we’ve got potties in your size!” one of the other counselor says, gesturing to a row of toddler training potties. Relief washes over Leah. Her biggest concern about attending camp as a baby was that she’d be stuck using a diaper. Apparently, the counselors assume her group is already working on potty training, and has the setup to encourage it.
Her cabinmates run around, claiming beds. Leah more sedately finds a bed and puts her things on it. Maybe Camp Bunnywood won’t be so bad after all.