Now that both of my boys are in the Navy and in their 20s, these summer days seem like a lifetime ago. I don't necessarily miss those long days of summer, but I can read this and fondly remember.
90,000
Questions of Summer
As
a child, summer vacation seemed to last an eternity. While I wasn’t anxious to get back to the
books and the teachers, it didn’t seem like the carefree summer would ever end.
It’s one thing that has remained the same. Summer break still feels like the longest
three months of the year. It isn’t that
I don’t love my children, but I dread summer vacation.
I’m
not some ungrateful shrew who can’t stand kids, but it takes time to adjust to
no longer having quiet time, Monday-Friday, from 7:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. This quiet time is replaced with constant
interaction until the end of August.
I’ve
read that the average four year-old will ask 437 questions a day. What the statistic didn’t note was that they
don’t stop asking that many questions, and as they grow older, they ask even
more.
With
each day of summer vacation, approximately 1,000 questions are posed to me in
one day. When the sun starts to rise,
and I haven’t had my coffee, they begin:
What’s
for breakfast? Why don’t you ever buy
good cereal? Who ate my favorite
cereal? Can I go out to play? Why can’t I go out at 6:00 a.m.? Can I ride my bike? Can I ride my bike on the highway? Then can I ride my bike to Grandma’s?
Can
I get the hose out? Are we going swimming
today? How do you know it’s going to
storm? What happens if you swim while
there’s lightning? Does getting struck
by lightning hurt? How do you die? Did the dog die from lightning? If I dug him up, would he still have fur and
bones? What does “morbid” mean?
It’s
guaranteed there are always lunchtime questions:
What
are we having for lunch? Is there
anything I like? Do we have any of those
little things? You know, those one
things? Why don’t you ever buy me
anything I like? Why did you get that
kind of mustard? Is this bologna really
made from pig lips and snouts? Are you
going to make something I don’t like for dinner too?
After
I’ve sent them outside to play, and they’ve had all the brotherly love they can
stand:
Why
did I have to have a brother? Why wasn’t
I an only child? Do you love him
more? Doesn’t he ever get in
trouble? If I put him in a big box,
would the mail truck take him away to China?
Are there really kids starving there?
Can we go wrestle on the trampoline?
Does a broken leg hurt? Why do
you always tell us you aren’t in the mood for spending the day in the emergency
room? Are you going to tell Daddy what we did today?
By
afternoon, they take full advantage of the plethora of information that is
their mother:
Can
I give the cat a bath? Why not? Why don’t cats like water? Have you ever given a cat a bath? Didn’t you tell me that you did once? What would happen if I gave the cat a
bath? How would my eyeballs get
scratched out? Would the scratches bleed? Would the cat really run away? Do you have to get stitches if a cat bites
you? Can you get rabies from a cat? How do you know cats don’t like water?
Would
the dog like to go for a ride on a motorcycle?
How about the go-kart? What if I
went really slow and put him in a seatbelt?
Could he wear a helmet? Do they
make helmets for dogs? Can you kill
flowers by peeing on them? How come dogs
can go to the bathroom outside then?
Could dogs wear diapers if they wanted to? Would they bite me if I tried to put a diaper
on one? How many days is grounded for a
month?
The
inquisitive little boogers are still at it even at bedtime:
Do
I have to go to bed? Why do I have to go
to bed when I’m not tired? What if I
can’t go to sleep? What if I stayed up
all night? Are you feeling all right,
Mommy? Why do you make a funny face like
you are growling? What’s high blood
pressure mean? Why do you tell us
cussing is bad when you just said a bad word?
I
seem to have all the answers, but just one question. How many days until school starts?
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