When the weather outside is cold and gray and ice and snow cover every square foot as far as the eye can see, I keep myself going with one thought:
“Soon it will be summer and we can play outside all day.”
I picture myself deadheading my immaculate gardens (because there’s been plenty of time to keep them weed free). I imagine our family going to the pool or the beach and splashing all day in the sun. I think about all the fun we’ll have playing at the park, and getting treats from the ice cream truck and all the other joyous things that go along with summer.
Most of all, I dream of the day when I don’t have to wrack my brain every 15 minutes to find a new activity for an antsy toddler.
May arrives and the weather is glorious. We spend June soaking up every bit of that summer sun. But in July? The oppressive heat smacks us upside our heads and forces us inside again.
Before long, the toys that had lain untouched in the toy box for a couple of months are strewn around the living room again. The TV is blaring Dora the Explorer. And a cooped up toddler is looking to me for entertainment.
It’s 9:30 in the morning, and we have already painted, made smoothies together, drawn with chalk and played super hero. I let her splash in the sink for 15 minutes—because it seemed to amuse her.
But now? She is banging on the door again, saying, “mommy, Outside!”
Unfortunately, we already did that too—and she melted within ten minutes.
Next up on the agenda will be a full-fledged Tori Fit, complete with dramatic collapse to the floor, flailing arms and eir-piercing screams.
Yeah, summer rocks.
This heat wave better lift soon, or I’m going to be tantruming right along with her.