It happens every summer. In June my boys and I count the days of vacation ahead, giddy with the thought of all the fun and freedom we’ll have in the coming months. We plan our adventures, find our swimming goggles, and smile at the thought of sleeping in until (gasp) 8 a.m. every day. And then… I blink, and it’s the last week of August. How does this happen??
I’m pretty sure that it has something to do with the fact that Minnesota summers are short, and it’s practically a state law that we have plans for EVERY. SINGLE. DAY of the season. Vacations, sports, pool visits, playing at the park, outdoor concerts, backyard barbecues, building projects… you name it and we’re cramming it in before that inevitable covering of snow returns. In the last 85 days our little family has taken two last-minute vacations, built a big beautiful shed in our backyard, had endless cookouts, romps at the park, pool visits, and sports events, and spent every “free” weekend possible at the cabin. Which brings me to today, a day of running around like a crazy person trying to get all of the last-minute school supplies and clothes, and a day of wondering where in the world our summer went.
This afternoon my oldest son caught me working on my manuscript for the first time in ages. I was deep into the story, excited to be reunited with my muse after so much time apart. ”Mom, did you finish another book this summer?” my son asked. I nearly snorted with laughter. Kids are so cute. :)
