By the time this column is published, local kids and teachers will have fewer than two weeks remaining in their summer vacation. As has become my custom at this point in the summer, I need to send out advance apologies to my kids’ teachers at Meadowlark, Cloud Peak and Clear Creek: The Hicks children are coming in hot.
I can promise you they each have a lot to write about for “what I did this summer” writing prompts. There’s been a lot of action but not much moderation.
Like so many parents I have talked to lately, it feels like our summer vanished before it really got started. June’s cool, wet weather meant there was not a lot of camping, hiking, swimming or going to the lake. And then the weather got nice, and we had to make up for lost time.
We stayed up late many nights. I’d like to say that it was because the sun’s still out and all that about going to bed during daylight. But really, we stayed up late because we were having fun and I wasn’t about to put the kibosh on it. We tossed the football around in the backyard with friends, roasted marshmallows and made s’mores, rode scooters and bikes, and enjoyed conversations on the porch with neighbors. All made sweeter with the knowledge that once the snow flies, we’ll miss those evenings spent lingering outside.
We ate watermelon in the evening and called it dinner. (Who has the time to cook or worry about dinner when there are trails to hike and putt-putt golf to play?)
We went to the pool in the evening, after finishing the day’s work. When the days get shorter this fall and darkness descends early, we’ll remember the feel of the warm sunshine on our faces and be thankful that we basked in the sun when we had the chance.
While we usually reserve ice cream for special occasions, somehow a warm summer evening seemed special enough and we found ourselves indulging more than we probably should have.
I freely admit that most of our summer was devoted to excesses, and I used to have visions of getting my kids “back on schedule” prior to the school year. I’ve since parted ways with that delusion. When Aug. 21 rolls around, we’ll get our school-year act together – this kind of frivolity has an expiration date.