My eight-year-old son is marking down the days on a little calendar he made himself. He has, I believe, nine days left of school. Of course I want him to value education, to be even a little reluctant to leave his classroom and teacher behind--but who am I kidding? I did the same thing. Summer is the siren that sings annually to promise children an eternal freedom, an endless fun, an escape from drudgery.
I was trying to plan some book events for the summer, and one of them involved choosing between one-day attendance and an overnight stay. My son's opinion was quick and honest. "Go for the one day," he said, holding up a wise finger. His desire to be with me squashes some of my ambition, and our plans for the summer are basically these: lie around; have fun; go to some movies; have family time.
Amidst that lazy, sultry few weeks, I need to get myself in gear. Madeline Mann comes out on August 1st, and I have yet to contact everyone in the world. Based on what I see of my sons and the way that they're gearing up for laziness, almost as if they're about to hibernate, I don't think I can count on much help from that quarter.
But that's okay. As Longfellow so aptly wrote: "A boy's will is the wind's will, and the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."
