It was 2:54 p.m. It was six minutes before school was supposed to let out on a regular day.
But, today wasn’t a regular day. It was a half day. Because, it was the last day of school.
They’d been out of school for less than three hours before declaring boredom.
They had eaten. Watched an idiotic cartoon where there is no dialogue – only slapstick physical comedy. They’d drawn with sidewalk chalk. Blown bubbles for the dogs to chase. Played some kickball-type game they invented in the backyard. Eaten again. Bounced tennis balls on a racquet. Colored. Done their nails. Tried to fly a kite. Gotten in 16 arguments.
And left the door open 436 times. Their efficiency with that is remarkable. And it made me think of the day we ran an airborne water balloon assault – with mixed results.
They lasted longer than both Ron and I had predicted when we made our wagers the night before. But just because they waited three hours to utter the words doesn’t mean they weren’t bored before expressing it.
I mean, really.
Whenever they say they’re bored…I don’t know…like, how to respond.
They have bikes. Scooters. Balls – literally any kind of ball. All the sports equipment. A swingset. A trampoline. Two parks nearby. Skateboards. Dogs and tortoises. Light sabers. A balance beam. Cones. Every board game, like, ever it seems. Each other.
THEY HAVE SO MANY THINGS. And I didn’t even mention their imaginations. That’s endless on their own – and collectively? Who the heck knows! It scares me a little.
So I offer for them to do things I need, like laundry, floors, dishes, bathrooms, dusting. And they scowl. And that finds them something to do right away.
So here’s to summer. Lazy mornings, lots of cups in the sink, no school lunches and chores so terrifying they’ll cure unwarranted boredom.