Open Letter To My Kids About Summer: I Am NOT Your Cruise Director
Socks in the hall. I'm on it. Dishes in the sink? Keep 'em coming. Legos? Everywhere? Love it.
istock Hey Kids,
Feel free to leave your stuff wherever you want this summer. Half-finished smoothies in the family room? No problem. I got it. Socks in the hall. I'm on it. Dishes in the sink? Keep 'em coming. Legos? Everywhere? Love it. Oh, and feel free to drag your blankets all over the house and abandon them the moment you no longer want them. I'll fold them lovingly for you and return them to your rooms.
And doors? Shutting them is optional. I'm right behind you, so, seriously, don't worry about it. I love when the wasps get in and the air conditioning gets out. Who are we to be sequestered in our climate-controlled house? Open door policy in this house. We have endless money.
And it's totally fine to leave your wet bathing suits and towels on any surface, from the floor to the banister. I love heaps, but be creative! Oh, and putting them on painted wood surfaces is the best. I'll grab them so they don't warp the wood.
You're busy. Stop. Get back to your Netflix. Friends is not going to binge-watch itself.
And let me know when you are hungry. Don't be encumbered by normal meal times. And please don't coordinate with each other. The kitchen is open 24/7, and I'm happy to whip up anything you need, whenever you need it. I majored in short-order cooking.
And if you make something yourself, just leave every single item exactly where you last needed it. Milk, too. If it goes bad, I'll just buy more. Money? Please. I'll just work more. And I've got the clean-up. I will walk in your footsteps and put things away. It's fun for me to live vicariously through your cooking. Like, wow, how did they get so much shredded cheese on the counter? Impressive.
And every time you are thirsty, get a new glass. We have tons. And a dishwasher I love to load and unload. Not to mention, as far as I know, endless electricity and water. The world is our oyster.
And if something comes up with your friends? I'm in. I'll drive you there or back — or, hell, both. I mean, I have a car and a license. I should put it to good use. And please, no need to give me any advance notice. I can easily stop whatever I'm doing, even work, to take you. I know how valuable your time is. Need some money for the movies? You got it, kiddo.
And to the little one, when you feel like it, I'll take you to the pool. Before we go, you can complain and squirm while I put on your sunscreen. Don't hold back. Just be you. Express how you're feeling. It is cold, isn't it? I love the challenge you pose me by inching away slowly as I'm applying it. Good stretch for my arms and back. Kind of you to think of me.
And just one thing on goggles: I'm on it. Don't bother to keep track of yours. I've made it my summer mission to know where your goggles are at all times (in the car, left side, wedged in between the seats). At night, I'm sleeping with them under my pillow. We can't be too careful. How will you swim without them?
Just a few last-minute housekeeping items: Eye rolling? Yes! I love the immediate feedback on my thoughts and ideas. How else can I gauge if I'm pleasing you or not? Showering? Optional. You know what's best. I defer to you. Wearing a hat? No way. The more sun the better. Chores? Just tell me when it's a good time for you. The weeds and messes aren't going anywhere.
One last thing... please always wear your headphones so that you can't hear me when I'm talking to you. Communication is totally overrated. Little-known fact about me: I love yelling things at the top of my lungs three or four times with no response. It's very cathartic. Look it up.
Well, call me crazy, but if you guys follow all of these guidelines, I think this summer is going to be a win for all of us. Or, if you don't understand sarcasm, you won't make it until July. Either way...
Love you guys.
.......