School is ending next week.
I used to feel sorry for parents at the end of the school year. What a bummer, I thought (yes, I grew up in the 80s). Three long months of summer with the kids at home. What a drag. Parents must be thrilled when September rolls around again.
I thought the same thing when my kids were too young for public school. Oh, school’s ending, I’d sigh. All those poor parents. Whatever will they do?
Then, of course, my kids started school. And I started to long for the three day weekends, the furlough days and, yes, the end of the school year.
Things I didn’t know about myself: I can’t wait to let my body clock wake me up every morning, instead of an alarm clock. I can’t wait to NOT have to herd small children into a car and rush to drop them off before the late bell rings. I can’t wait to NOT have a packet of homework in my kids’ backpack.
I cannot wait for the school year to end.
No one told me I would be more excited by the end of the school year than my kids are.