Hey – here comes summer! On Memorial Day weekend I still had the heat on!
I am very upset with the chilly and wet spring in Chicago, and I’d like a refund. If I can’t get any money, I’ll take whatever is in the big box, Monty.
I was even more upset the other day to realize my kids have grown up. Couldn’t someone have sent me an email about this before now? I was walking Ernie along our street and children from our block were running up and down the sidewalk, screeching at each other, drawing with chalk, laughing, drinking out of juice boxes…being happy children in the brief warmth of this stilted spring.
Those once were my three- and six-year-olds, delighted to be outside and running wherever they could in the dappled sunshine, as we parents paid some measure of attention while we reintroduced ourselves over beer and wine on our porches and lawns.
My children are no longer running up and down the block, and that makes me a little sad, though given their age, it makes sense. It would have been creepy had I been doing that in front of my mom’s house when I was 15.
So summer has changed. It’s still about the coming warmth and putting the top down and cooking out, but now it’s also about ballet and driving lessons. Change must come with acceptance of that change.
And change must accept the next round of Mason jars. If I come home one day and find my kids sitting in very large Mason jars, I won’t be surprised.