So, I guess yesterday’s weekend review might have been a little narrow-minded and perhaps a tad egocentric. Yes, I did a good job of setting up a new server and I have no doubt you all thought my assessment of the Karate Kid thing was right on. Everyone always agrees with me, right? In the bigger picture, though, I suppose it wouldn’t have killed me to mention that the rest of my family wasn’t, you know, sitting around the living room watching paint dry. In fact, it was actually an important day in the grand scheme of summer 2010; yesterday represented the official start of Various Summer Activities. And there was much rejoicing.
While The Attitude napped through the afternoon, I puttered about with my new piece of hardware and the wife took the kids to the library for an exciting hour of “DinoMania!” The kids each picked out some new books (sharks, elk, and Chocolatina, oh my!) and signed up for the Summer Reading Club. Then, this morning, the Puddinpop began a week-long summer program where he’ll be finding out about the wonders of the world (today’s topic was the South American rainforest) and dinosaurs.
We like this kind of thing. I believe firmly that my children are all smarter than I am, so we’re encouraged when they want to learn stuff because, you know, they just want to learn stuff. Perhaps they won’t squander their lives committing the dialogue of three Star Wars and four Star Trek movies to memory.
In addition to those things, they all have some pretty interesting stuff coming up. There will be dance, I believe (maybe ballet?), ice skating lessons, hockey, vacation Bible school, swim lessons, some Wild Wednesdays, and a myriad of trips to the pool.
Now, I don’t know about you, but the majority of my summers were spent towing my sister around a swimming pool, complaining about the heat, trying to fry ants with a magnifying glass, or repeatedly watching either The Pirate Movie or Grease 2 (because my little sister, as I’ve mentioned, usually got what she wanted). There’s a dirty internet rumor that I can sing all three versus of Cool Rider. That’s patently untrue. I’m sure I only remember the first one at this point. Wait…no…I um…crap. Never speak of this.
I guess I also spent some time each summer watching with dismay as the Ice Cream Man* drove off while I stood on my porch, squeezing one lonely dime in a grubby, sweaty hand. At the time I would wonder exactly why last week’s pouch of Big League Chew had been so important, or why I hadn’t had the sense to pass on those baseball cards that my older brother had already swindled me out of. Someday, I’d swear to myself, that by the Power of Greyskull, I would save my money and get that Bomb Pop.
Eventually, every summer, my parents would give me a dollar for the Ice Cream Man. There was never a chance I’d pass up Big League Chew in the summer.
* It’s always the Ice Cream Man, regardless of gender