The one writing “Five more days til school is out!” with glee.
You and I can’t be friends anymore.
If you want to meet for a drink sometime, that’s okay. But I have to unfriend you from my friend list.
The excitement in your voice about doing the happy dance, getting to spend long days at the beach with your kids, taking day trips as a family and not having any schedules to adhere to… you’re killing me.
It’s been two hours since my kids have been out of school and already I’m reaching for the wine glass.
“Mommy. How long is a garden stick? Is it the same as this tape measure?”
“Mommy I’m going to clip this tape measure to my belt loop like this. See? Like this? You’re not looking… How can you say ‘I see'”?
“And Mommy, don’t tell Daddy when he comes home so I can surprise him”
Or when the kid is watching a show called “Dog with a Blog,” yet still manages time to glance over at what I’m doing.
“Mommy, why are you writing about me?”
“Mommy why did you write a question mark there?
“Mommy can you put more cereal in a bag for me?”
“Mommy I’m going to do my homework now. After I finish the cereal. Oh can I also have a drink?”
“Before you say something like ‘are your legs broken’ or ‘did you forget where the refrigerator is” it’s not funny. And I’m in the middle of my show! So can you pleEEzzzee get me a drink?”
“Mommy are you writing about me in your blog?”
Did I mention the kid calling me Mommy is almost eight? What was I thinking sending him to speech therapy at the age of two and a half because he wasn’t talking enough?
He glances over at his older (quiet) brother who is engrossed in his iPad (aka BEST BABYSITTER ever.)
“What’s the score? What app are you playing? Do you think Daddy can download that for me?”
Oldest now chimes in because youngest has decided to measure EVERYTHING in the house with the tape measure; including his brother.
“Stop! You’re being annoying!”
“Stop measuring my foot and my head.”
“Stop measuring Wilsey.”
“I said STOP!!”
So, to those of you wanting your long, extended days of summer: Enjoy them.
I’ll never understand you but I’ll be sending you my eight year old so you can reach for the wine glass with me.
Me? I’ll be doing the happy dance come September.