I tried to suck as much summer out of this past week as humanly possible. The truth is, I start to dread the winter's inevitable approach in September. I like the fall here. Quite a bit, actually. But I'm such a warm temperature, play all day in the sun kind of girl that the mere thought of cold weather for six months straight makes me feel that a sudden onset of hives is imminent.
I also love having my kids with me. Oh sure, they fight and drive me crazy and make me want to sell them to the next band of traveling gypsies, but, for the most part, I like them. I want them around. So the thought of sending my oldest off to first grade tomorrow makes me overwhelmingly sad.
In order to keep the fall at bay just a bit longer, I took the boys to the pool three times in the past four days. Today was kind of our last hurrah. The outside pool closes soon and with Garrett being in school full time, we probably won't get much chance to enjoy it again.
They jumped.
And splashed.
They flopped.
And canonballed.
We played a game that they call "Shark" where Garrett tries to get Matthew and me and then we try to get him. Our pool has a rule that anyone under six must be within arms length of a guardian which is great for safety but awful considering the fact that my four-year-old is a fish. So we have to be on a team together, swimming and running through the water, trying to catch the older brother, or stay away from him.
I threw them in the air and watched them backflip back into the water.
They slid.
And Garrett held up his thumb and little finger because every single time the camera points in his direction, he thinks it's necessary. In years to come I will refer to this as the Shaka Period.
Tomorrow we jump head first into the school year. Gone are the carefree days of summer. Here comes fall.
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