We are looking down on 95 days of summer vacation. 95 days. I’m letting that number sink in for a minute. Because in our house, all of the adults work. And the child does not. For 95 days. This creates an interesting challenge.
And while I’m super down with not having to wrestle a child out the door every morning before sunlight, I’m also not sure how we’re going to fill 2,375 hours. Productively. Nutritionally. Without killing each other. So right now, the wide open space of nothingness is daunting. Of course I’m into the slow days of porch swings and soccer balls and lightning bugs. At least in theory. But, on the other hand, none of us sit still very well, and well, there are things to be done.