On the beach, earlier this summer
If I see one more ad or Facebook post reminding me that summer is almost over, I’m going to puke. The last time I felt this way was when I was the one getting ready to head back to school, only frankly most years I was ready to let go of summer and get back into the swing of things.
Not so this summer. After three years of sending Simon to KIP camp for most of the summer, this year I decided to send him to nature and sports camps for about half the summer. But really, it’s even less than that. Whereas KIP camp was Monday through Friday 9:00 to 1:00 p.m., half of the camps this year are Monday through Thursday, and none lasts past noon. Fully a third of his camp sessions are so short that I plan to take a book and find a coffee shop close by instead of driving home and back.
This summer’s camp-lite schedule was a conscious choice, informed largely by my wanting to relish time with Simon before full-day school begins and also by my desire to better map Simon’s activities to his interests than I have in summers past. I joked at the time that after a summer of so much togetherness, I might be crawling the walls, screaming, or begging JCPS to open school early.
My experience has been quite the opposite. On non-camp weeks, we’ve gone to soccer clinics in the parks and one-hour tennis clinics by the zoo nearly every day. We’ve played soccer in the back yard, and we’ve driven to a neighborhood public tennis court where Simon humiliates me on a regular basis. We’ve played card games and board games, read books about mischievous ducks and the planets, and explored trails in the parks. We’ve gone out for ice cream, cookies, and frozen yogurt. We’ve practiced a little (very little) reading and math. We’ve snuggled on the couch to watch soccer and Wimbledon together. We’ve had play-dates with our friends who aren’t at all-day camp all summer. We’ve strolled through the zoo several times. I’m still planning a bike riding trip to Bernheim forest.
I think Simon is having the time of this life, and I know I am. He’s good company: a happy kid who’s eager to stay active, old enough to have genuine interests, and young enough to still possess little-boy innocence. Heatwave notwithstanding, it’s been grand, and I’m going to be sad to see it go. Very sad. How long can I make the next four weeks last?
You forgot to add that talking to him is like conversing with a child several years older. I know I’m the Bubbie and naturally I think all my grandchildren are special (and they are), but I have been telling you for four years that he is ahead of himself intellectually.