By Lynna Clark
Ahhh… summertime in my sweet home of North Carolina. Where it’s not only hot enough to fry an egg on the hood of a truck, but also a great time to try out the meatloaf recipe you can bake in your mailbox. Where construction crews are busy spreading molten tar but are kind enough to put up warning signs if there’s going to be a bump in the road. A magical time when children run through the sprinkler just to cool off; that is if you can coax them outside into this blazing Hades we call July. But first they must be coated with sunscreen compatible with the surface of the sun. A thick layer of bug repellent is also mandatory lest mosquitoes the size of chickens carry them off. Then of course it’s important to thoroughly wash all that off the moment they come back inside so the poison applied for protection doesn’t cause brain damage.
Don’t tell anyone. But being the tired grandmother that I am, I’ve begun ditching the obligatory outdoor time. Instead I just toss them into a bath of lukewarm water where they can slosh and play all they want. It’s my idea of skipping the middle man. They’re not permitted to get bored until their little fingertips shrivel up like tiny raisins. Then and only then are they allowed to dry off and go to the next level of entertainment. I think to myself, “What a wonderful world!” Well… and also, “Legos don’t look so boring now do they?” MUWAHAHAH! This granny wasn’t born yesterday! [Obviously]
When their moms return from grocery shopping they are greeted by excited chatter explaining their Lego village. I stand amazed at the construction before me which easily rivals the Charlotte skyline. There are shops and vehicles and picnic tables and rooftop patios and even a little windmill suggesting a miniature golf course. Suddenly their moms are having a hard time getting them to leave. So a timer is set for thirty minutes of grace given for extra play. The adults retreat to the den with blankets and cups of coffee since the air is cranked up to a comfortable “granny level.” Though the timer has long ago sounded, everyone is quiet lest the spell is broken and playtime grace is ended.
When our three kids were small, they played outside all day. It was a necessary strategy in order to maintain my own delicate psyche. So at first I felt guilty for allowing my grands to play inside. But dang it’s hot! This happens every year and I’m just now recognizing this little bump in the road. Therefore I’ve decided: the kids can play outside this fall. And if they beg to come in, the reply on our lips shall be, “Sure! I’ve got a laundry basket full of socks to sort. You can help!” MUWAHAHAHA! Suddenly jumping in the leaves will look pretty fun again!
OH! I must go. I almost forgot to retrieve the meatloaf from the mailbox. Our mail carrier might think I’m nuts if I let that thing burn!
