Itâ€™s time for more caffeine and some summer highlights.
In June, in addition to our trip out West, we faked a Disney trip. Budget constrains, time constrains, and maternal constraints (I love Disney, but I donâ€™t do Disney in the summer) didnâ€™t allow park attendance, but when LCB had business nearby for a few days, we decided to join him and spend one afternoon and evening at Downtown Disney. The small people brought their money to add to a small parental contribution, and we made all we could out of the Disney and Lego stores.
Then, we ate dinner at the T-Rex Cafe. Our children realized they were not in the parks, of course, but it was a fun alternative all the same. And hey. It beats the real person I knew in Chicago who really did, when her small children said they wanted to see the real Florida, drive them to Wisconsin instead and say, â€œOkay kids, hereâ€™s Florida!â€
Let that one soak in for a minute.
Life was good on our island.
A stomp rocket birthday present for one of the boys led to a July evening spent at a nearby park stomping, a pursuit that baffled Baby-Girl. â€œWhy do they have to keep doing it?â€ she asked after an hour of stomping, boredom, and the stunning revelation that life is not entirely about oneself. â€œIt does the same thing every time!â€ she moaned. And thus she began to realize the world of men is something few outside the gender understand.
And finally, on a Sunday night a couple of weeks ago, with the small people secure in their beds feigning sleep, LCB and I stepped out on the deck, intent on enjoying a nightcap and the breeze coming in off the marsh.
It is not hyperbole to say I will be eternally grateful that I did not sit down on the chair I usually sit on at night, but instead chose the rocker. It was dark, and as we sat and talked for a minute, I realized I needed something inside.
I have no earthly idea what that thing was, because when I stood up, I noticed an unusual shape on the top of my usual chair. I stared for a moment. â€œHhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I think thereâ€™s a snake on that chair,â€ I told LCB.
So, while I continued to make the letter H sound, we turned on the deck light, went inside and stood by the window closest to the chair, and realized our snake looked a great deal like a copperhead. Of course, I immediately recalled my pediatricianâ€™s comment regarding copperheads: â€œYou wonâ€™t die from their bites, but youâ€™ll wish you had,â€ and began imagining tiny, undiscovered holes in our house that the snake might be able to slither through. When I regained my ability to form additional letter sounds again, I warned LCB, â€œDonâ€™t go out there wielding a shovel or any other form of weaponry unless you have backup. And since itâ€™s a snake, Iâ€™m not backup.â€
I donâ€™t do snakes.
Fortunately, more inspection and a little research led us to believe it was probably a corn snake, a very snakish snake but one without the capacity to send you to the ER. We even interrupted our sonsâ€™ fake sleeping (Baby-Girlâ€™s seemed real) to call them down to see the snake. Lest you think that because we live on a salt marsh, we must see them regularly, thatâ€™s not the case; weâ€™ve only seen one other snake in our tenure here. Thus, they were mildly impressed and happy to avoid fake-sleeping for a few more minutes.
And so, our summer of adventure has come to a close and we return to a life of schedules and textbooks and stunning scholastic revelations like, â€œYouâ€™re the only Mom in the entire school that makes her kids pack their own lunches.â€
That’s okay; it’s all good.
Up next: The epilogue of We Went Off and back-to-school miscellany