“Milk and cookieeeeeees!!!!!!!!!”
That was the single phrase one of our campers yelled the other day during a tour with a prospective K&E family.
No context. No explanation. Just pure excitement.
An adult in this situation would have had a ton of questions, starting with “Um, what?” and followed by “Why are you screaming Milk and Cookies at me?!”
But Chris (not his real name, you know how this goes), the kid on the receiving end of this snacktime chorus isn’t an adult. And honestly, he didn’t have any questions. He did what kids do. He ran off with a group he’d just met because they were about to bolt down milk and cookies.
That moment pretty much sums up everything I love about this place.
The Tour
Ali and I were giving a tour during rest hour. Totally standard stuff. Showing a family around, explaining how things work, answering the usual questions about schedules and activities.
One of the great parts of these tours is when our kids jump in to “take over”. They run up to a new face, introduce themselves, ask them questions.
Have I lightly nudged everyone to say, “Hey, we’ve got a tour here tomorrow. Let’s be cool!” Sure, but that’s about it. I mostly just want what every camp director wants. For camp to look “cool” and “fun”.
On this tour, we walked up to the Inters’ bunk area
James spotted us first. Without any prompting, he walked right up to Chris: “Hey, my name is James. You should come to this camp.”
Ok. Ok. VERY good start.
The,n more kids appeared. “Let me show you the bunk! Let me show you the bunk!” They were practically jostling for the chance to bring Chris inside and tell him camp stories.
Eric asked me directly: “Hey, can we show them the campfire pit?” Before I could answer, the whole group had sprinted off with Chris in tow.
What followed was 45 minutes of kids who couldn’t contain their excitement about their favorite place on the planet. Not because we asked them to help. Not because they were trying to convince anyone of anything.
They weren’t giving a tour. They were proud.
Snacktime
But the moment you’ve all been waiting for came when we hit the waterfront.
The daily Milk and Cookies Song started playing over the speakers. K&E folks know this is the daily signal that snack time is indeed here, and rest hour is over.
The kids didn’t pause to explain this tradition to Chris.
Their brains couldn’t work fast enough to translate what was happening. They just screamed “Milk and cookies!” and took off running.
And Chris? He ran with them. No hesitation. No questions. Just pure trust that whatever was making his new friends this excited was worth joining.
One of our campers stayed behind to give the parents context: “Right now he’s getting milk and cookies because… Oh, and here’s how Waterfront works…”
But honestly? The explanation wasn’t needed. You could see it in Chris’s face as he sprinted away with kids he’d met ten minutes earlier.
What Pride Looks Like
When I thought about it later, I kept thinking: that wasn’t salesmanship. That was ownership.
These kids weren’t giving a tour. They were showing off their summer house. And that house just happens to be these cabins in the woods with some really cool friends.
Kids wanted to share their perspectives on things, because the things matter.
“Here’s why we do this…”
“Wait, let me tell you about…”
“Oh, and the best part is…”
There’s no better ambassador in the world than a kid who’s loving something. Doesn’t have to be a summer camp. Just think about the excitement you hear from kids when they’re all the way bought in on a thing that matters to them.
The K&E Community
For alumni: This is the place you helped build. Every tradition Chris experienced, every warm welcome, every moment of pure excitement. That’s legacy baby.
For our current families: Look what your kids are creating. They’re building the kind of place they’re excited to share with others. The kind of community where a stranger becomes a friend the moment they show up.
For families considering K&E: This is what your child would be walking into. Not just activities and traditions, but kids who feel such deep pride in their community that they can’t help but welcome you in.
That’s what eight weeks together creates. That’s what happens when kids feel genuine ownership of their summer home.
Where “Milk and cookies!” is the only explanation anyone needs.
We got this,
Jack