The bitter. The pace of those delightful 7 weeks are as light as the dry air. We color our white canvas with whatever we choose whenever we choose during this time. Our play is expanded and it doesn't end with bedtime restrictions. I can snuggle those muffins for as long as I want at waking and fall asleep with them at night... and I do. I can make pancakes late in the morning at 10 dressed in bedtime attire as my house is loud and messy with the folly play of my children. We can take a lengthy chunk of uninterrupted time out to dive into each other's individuality. I will miss it until next time...
The sweet. My children are back in their routine, which brings a different sort of evolvement. There is beauty in this as they grow. New classes bring forth new personalities and friendships as well as learning a fresh leader in their teachers. Old friendships are revived and summer stories are shared. With all of these, lifetime memories are made. Mom gets to clean the crevices from the toll summer takes particularly on the walls and floors of my house. And yes, I did clean what I think was a booger off of a wall. I get a few needed moments to myself. We all learn more in the art of time management with each busy schedule under one roof.
I was going through backpacks in preparation... and taking my sweet summer paced time at it, might I add. One day I found these and played with them...
Maybe mood disorders were taught in the 3rd grade.
Then I ran into a few things that melted my soul, which doesn't take much from my two boys.
A page in Benny's backpack:
Good luck to my little men this year... Mom will be rooting for you the whole way through until our next 7 weeker!!
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