It's the last Friday of the kids' summer vacation. Monday, the gauntlet comes down full force and they'll be dragging their sorry asses out of bed- undoubtably grumbling all the way about the injustice of it all. I, on the other hand, will be relieved to see them go out the door and into the arms of demanding teachers who will give them lots of schoolwork to occupy them when they get home. It's not that I don't like vacation. It's just that I am not all that equipped to find fascinating activities which they are actually willing to do. School creates routines, opportunities and stimulation for which I am very grateful. Homeschooling is not my thing.
So, they lay around the house feeling fully justified to take in the last of their utter lazy ways. Or head out the kitchen door in search of a friend and adventure. Me, I am hiding downstairs, typing away and drinking in the delicious smell of the autumn clematis blooming outside my door. Children bring you all sorts of pleasures, but flowers bear unique gifts. Their shapes, abundance and fragrance which they appear to effortlessly create. It's its own kind of bliss for sure.
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