When you take your kids out to New Jersey for a two-week swim day camp, dropping them off early in the morning, getting some work done at the Starbucks, and picking them up around noon, and you find the two-week Jersey-Mom structure entrancing—waking up at 6:30, working out, having breakfast with your kids, loading them in the car, navigating the same traffic patterns every day, trying a different prefab Starbucks breakfast sandwich each day of the first week and then repeating each sandwich the next week, letting the barista take your name down as George the first day, then Joan the second day, until by the second week they don’t even have to ask your name, asking the swim instructors the same questions every day (“How was the day?” What did they learn today?” “Anything we can do at home?”), going back to your in-laws' house where you’re staying and having lunch, then going to the beach for the afternoon with your kids and a book and alternating between reading ten pages and getting in the water with them, leaving the beach at five and making dinner with your kids, your wife, your in-laws, and/or any cousins who happen to be there, putting the kids to bed, watching baseball, and having two beers. This procession should feel repetitive and artificial, because it is. But it feels good for two weeks.

What are the Sneaky Feels?

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AuthorJohn Proctor