The Ghost of Camp Wumba-Wumba

Lately I've had a hankerin' to write another children's story, but I've run out of nieces and nephews young enough to appreciate them. So, I went to my boss and asked if his kids--ages 9 and 5, I think--would like a personalized story. He seemed to like the idea, so I've been steadily working on that as time has allowed. Here is the first chapter. I'm currently working on chapter 5, but I didn't want to kill anyone with the whole thing at once. Note: The formatting's a bit mussed up, but it'll do.

Chapter 1:
It was almost time. Alexandra and Clare were finally going to Camp Wumba-Wumba, where they could play all day, eat s’mores every evening, and tell ghost stories in the cabin all night. Alexandra and Clare knew there were no such things as ghosts, but the stories were always fun. They could hardly wait.

Clare had heard about the camp from a friend and had been begging her mom and dad to go for the past six months. “Pleeeeeease!” She would say every night at bedtime. “Please can Alexandra and me go to Camp Wumba-Wumba?”
“Alexandra and I, not Alexandra and me,” her mother would correct her. “We’ll talk about it later.” But it was never the right time, and “later” never seemed to come.

It didn’t take long for Alexandra to join in, often attempting to bribe her way to camp. “I’ll do the dishes for a whole week . . . AND I’ll keep my room clean!”

Eventually, their parents gave in and said they’d think about it, but there would be no more discussion until then. “Understood?” their father said.
“We promise,” Alexandra and Clare said reluctantly.

The following days felt like weeks, and then years. Every night it was all both girls could do not to ask about Camp Wumba-Wumba, but managed to hold their tongues.

“Family meeting!” Their father yelled upstairs the next Saturday afternoon. Clare and Alexandra looked at each other, knowing what the meeting just had to be about. They raced downstairs to the family room, where their mom and dad were already sitting. “Have a seat, girls,” their mother said. “There’s something we have to talk about.”

Her father began. It wasn’t good news, Alexandra and Clare could tell. They could always tell when it wasn’t good news. “Your mother and I have discussed Camp Wooba-Wooba and . . .”
“Wumba-Wumba!” the girls said at the same time, giggling at their father’s mistake. He was so silly sometimes.
“Sorry, Wumba-Wumba,” he said with a knowing smile, and then continued. “We’ve talked about sending you to camp and we just don’t feel like. . .”

Time seemed to slow as the Alexandra’s hopes faded. She just knew her parents would never let them go. Her mom and dad never wanted them to have any fun ever.

“We just don’t feel like we should keep you from having some fun on your own this summer,” their father continued.
Both Clare and Alexandra were still upset that their parents were being so mean when they noticed that their mom and dad were both smiling at them. What did Dad just say?
“What?” is all Alexandra could manage to say.
“You’re going to Camp Wumba-Wumba,” her mother said with a grin.
“We’re going to camp!” cried Clare
“We’re going to camp!” cried Alexandra
“Camp Wumba-Wumba!” they all shouted together as the girls danced around the family room.