(Oh boy, brace yourself-- this is where she gets all misty-eyed talking about summer, and goes on and on about how great it is, blah blah blah. She does this at least twice a year.)
Yes, it's true: "this man has no. . ." never mind. Yes, it's true: it's that time to chat about my favorite season, again.
I don't know what else to say.
Except for this.
I believe in what The Nester says about only having x amount of summers left with the kids. For me, it's nine. Just nine summers left before my kids are all grown up. Ish.
Three if you only count the ones before my kids figure out their mom is a nerd and avoid her.
(Um, Somebody's under here!)
I believe that the world kind of stops in summertime, and the days go slower. And they're meant to.
I believe that happy summer memories carry us through the dark and cold winter months.
I believe in going from jammies, to swimsuits. And then back to jammies.
I believe that water straight out of the hose is delicious.
I believe that the hours when the sun goes down and all the carnival lights turn on is the shizzle.
I believe in lemonade, popsicles, ice cream parties, barbeques and watermelon, game nights, neighborhood night games, sand in the crack, swimsuit wedgie picking, and random, annual visits to the bowling alley (why the bowling alley? I have no idea. It's a tradition. It just is.).
I believe in a double dosage of deodorant. I believe in 24 hour allergy pills and a box of tissues next to the bed (so why do I love summer?), and doggone it,
I now believe that kids can, in fact, get better with age. Behold.
Hallelujah, and amen.
in summer lovin', had me a blast. Summer lovin', happened so fast. I met a girl, crazy for me-- met a boy, cute as can be.
I believe that that was my favorite movie when I was young, and I had zero idea how perverted it was until I grew up.
Yes, people: summer days, drifting away, to ah! oh the summer nights.
'N finally, I said it last time, and I'll say it again: kids get only one childhood, and we're doin' our best to make it count.