Dolce far niente

Lying there in the darkness, the night before Maddy and Suzy go back to school, I’m unable to sleep.

I’m thinking back over my summer—their summer. Was it a success? Over the past three months, I investigated scores of activities for my daughters. Of those, I more or less seriously pursued several dozen. But how many did I actually get them involved in? Let’s see. Trip to the beach. Art exhibit. Visit to friends’ house. Um . . . moth science . . . ?

I know, I know: their summer hasn’t exactly been packed. Frankly, you readers have given me far more ideas than I’ve given you. (It seems as though every one of my blog entries turns into a flurry of letters. From the very first, that tells you a lot about the author.) I heard from a dad whose kids spent the summer constructing an army of puppets out of cloth scraps and polystyrene balls. I heard from a couple whose kids built a miniature golf course for their anniversary using old cardboard tubes, plastic flowerpots, and roofing tiles. Someone sent me a recipe for a goop her teenager concocted by mixing cornstarch and water: it’s moldable like dough, but the instant you drop it on the sidewalk, it melts.

One correspondent’s little girls have never had a puppy, so to ease them into it she took them to a dog park. They spent a frustrating but enlightening hour trying to entice a roughhousing band of mutts into a game of Fetch the Muddy Slobbery Tennis Ball. And one mom has found salvation in her community newsletter (never mind the typos, esoteric gossip, and campy non-news). In June, knowing nobody, she and little eight-year-old Harper crashed their local high school’s end-of-the-year band concert. And why not? Rockin’ the free culture? Sure! It’s all good!

And us? We did exactly none of this. We’re the family who drove for miles to go letterboxing and then bailed without even getting out of the car. OK, so the summer wasn’t exactly a nonstop educational whirlwind, but I think they did learn a little. And—dare I say it?—occasionally it seemed to me they were actually enjoying themselves. (Which is only fair; after all, it was summer.)

How much of that can I take credit for? Long before the invention of the cell phone and video games, kids were finding ways to keep themselves busy during summer break. Maybe it’s just that we parents forget how easily they make their own entertainment, how much they long to explore. I think sometimes the kids themselves forget. They wake up griping about how boring today will be; by bedtime, they’re too excited to sleep.

All I know is what my heart tells me. Which is that after three months with me—a little fun, a little learning, a little disappointment, a little growing—my little angels are ready to go back to school. And that as long as they have each other, they won’t be bored.

At least, not with me as their mom.

At least, not for long.