there's 76 days of summer vacation...
So the last day of school is Thursday. Actually, Thursday is the last day my kids will be attending parties while at school this week. They got their report cards last week, and this week has been nothing but make up time for the days we missed during winter. I don't seem to remember the kids having several snow days, but I guess what they say is true. You DO block out the bad stuff!
I'm pretty excited about this summer break. Between the bullying issue, a few middle school stressors (fist to sky, middle school! fist! to! sky!), and everything in between, we need a break around here. That's why I've declared this as "The Summer Vacation Where I Don't Tell The Boys No!"
(fireworks, explosions, crashing cymbols, parading animals, sky divers, hooray!)
Yeah. I see this declaration of mine lasting until about June 7th, so when you see a scrawled plea for help here, trust I'm not kidding, and when you're all, "Ha ha ha! Told you so!" I'll just nod my head in agreement. It'll be easy to do considering my body will be rocking back and forth as I'm huddled in the fetal position in a corner anyway (I think that's called centrifugal force. I should ask my middle school student son, but I fear what he's already forgotten this year)(and I could absolutely be wrong for my ability to retain information isn't what it used to be as evidenced by the fact I have to Google the recipe for hard boiled eggs every spring).
Care to know why I think my plan my plan to have "The Summer Vacation Where I Don't Tell The Boys No!" will likely backfire backfire before I ever really get it fired up? Take a gander down there at that Mug O' Awesome (which is what I wanted to name him, but my Tool Man said nope):
I KNOW, RIGHT?! Can you not feel the ability to bend things with your mind or simply melt from the sheer adorableness of that face as it washes over you?! Well, try living with that every day, people! It isn't easy! And the missing tooth!? Gah!!
So Captain I Only Play Evil When Woken Up Too Early up there comes to me the other night with a piece of paper and a pencil, plants his hands upon his hips, and asks, "Mom, fury is spelled F-U-R-Y, right?"
Please say you said furry, please say you said furry, please say you said furry...
But no. He definitely WAS making sure he was spelling fury correctly for what is apparently going to be either his memoirs or his manifesto, I'm not sure yet (and which makes me feel a wee bit 'well, that's just great!' as the mom who just got done reading Columbine)(which, seriously, READ THAT BOOK!).
So it's good to know all the spelling tests we practiced for each week during this first grade year have really paid off. Scripps National Spelling Bee, with your adorable finger pencil using, pleated khakis wearing, peach fuzzed lipped pubescent contestants, here we come!
But first, I get two more days to practice saying yes all the time (and as I think about it, I think that means ALL the boys in my house will have a happy summer). Take another look at that face up there. It probably shouldn't be too hard.