Summer Fun

At the end of June, when the Gort was (finally) done with school, we sat down at the dining table. ‘Let’s make a Summer Fun Bowl,’ I suggested. Because I feared summer would come and go and we’d hang around the house in a state of perpetual irritation. And the Gort would go back to school and we’d have nothing to ‘show’ for our summer.

So we compiled a list of fun things to do. In the back of a notebook. (So much for putting scraps of ‘fun’ paper in a bowl and pulling out an activity on those days when summer just wasn’t…fun.)

By the time we got back from our annual roadtrip, it was August. And we had but 4 weeks of ‘summer fun’ left. Also, I couldn’t find my notebook with the list of ideas. But that didn’t really matter. Because the Summer Fun [Bowl] was really just about saying ‘yes’ when I’d rather say ‘no’.

As in, ‘yes I’d rather let you have a friend over than fret about the mounds of unfolded or unwashed laundry holding my floor hostage.’

Even if the fun isn’t life-altering or particularly long-lasting. Like flying kites, for example. Hypothetically speaking.

So when the boys asked me (repeatedly) one morning if we could have crepes, I said yes. Even though the house was a disaster. And even though I didn’t really want to make crepes.

And when the Gort asked me to ‘play Lego with [him],’ I said yes. Even though I haven’t the first clue about how to play Lego.

‘I don’t really know how to play,’ I protested. Hoping the Gort would let me off the hook and ask his dad, instead. ‘You just build whatever you want,’ he explained. As though that made it easier. So I dutifully sifted through the rubble of colored plastic before me. And found some of the bigger blocks. And built what can be best described as….a rest stop.

Having completed my task, I went upstairs to put away eight loads’ worth of laundry. ‘Mom,’ I heard the Hen call from downstairs. ‘Yes?’ I yelled back. ‘Is it okay if we use some of the Lego pieces from your house?’

Apparently my rest stop had been slated for demolition.

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