I read somewhere, a long time ago, that having three kids is the most trying number, because once that third one comes, suddenly now you’ve got more kids than you’ve got hands. You can no longer hold them all back, unless you’ve got really long arms (or a kid leash, and don’t get me started … Continue reading the third kid
When I was a kid, summers were for having fun outside. They were all about riding our bikes, swimming (if we had the chance), playing in the hydrant (more often than swimming), YMCA camps, and staying away from bologna as much as possible. It was the time of year when, even though we had responsibilities, they weren’t as immediate or as detrimental to our precious time as at other times of the year.
That’s because summers were truly endless. It was like someone flipped the switch, the room became bright, and the bulb didn’t burn out until three months down the line. It didn’t matter that we still had church every week because nothing else was really set in stone. Because summers were for us kids. My mom still went to work every day, and she left us a chores list, but we would blast those out of the water and move on to the more fun stuff.
It’s funny. Even though we lived in the poorer part of town (sorry, North Philly) and there was a lot of… activity around, it was like we were in our own protective bubble, being kids. Continue reading “Endless Summer”
Dear Journal, I had a conversation with a younger friend of mine the other day about Disney movies. I told her I was going with my family to see the new Disney movie “Inside Out” this weekend, and she was so jealous. “I wish I had kids just so I would have an excuse to … Continue reading Dear Journal: Like Magic