The first week of summer vacation is always interesting, isn't it?
I feel like I've just gone through some re-training. I mean, yes, I usually spend quite a bit of time with our children, but it's nothing to compared to summer vacation, where with the exception of my daily run, we're together constantly, world without end, amen.
One of the things I had somehow forgotten is just how physical kids are. Do you know how many times our children have gotten hurt in the past seven days? A million. Kidding, it's the only in the low hundreds. Per child. Just tonight, at the playground, Atticus came to me crying because he'd scraped up his back. I lifted up his shirt, and sure enough, there were abrasions up and down his spine. He explained to me what had happened, and I scratched my head. You did what, now? So we went over and he recreated the scene for me, Unsolved Mysteries-style. I still have no idea how it happened. I can only think he did a weird spasm and somehow forced his trunk through a narrow space of wire mesh... or something. Five minutes later Caedmon came to me crying, because it hurts when you drop from the frighteningly tall monkey bars and your ankle gives out because you've forced your exhausted body through that obstacle course eight times in a row.
The skin on Adelaide's stomach is a mess of scrapes and scratches, because that's what happens when you get stuck up a tree. This is especially true when, once you realize you're stuck, you climb higher up into the branches. Reads at a twelfth grade reading level; can't navigate herself out of a tree. This kid is going places. Like trees, I guess.
If this week is a fair indicator of the coming months, I'm thinking "Who could have seen this coming?" might just be the mantra of our summer break.