When did summer stop feeling like this?

I'm stealing a few minutes here while "watching" four little girls play inside on a rainy day. (I could be cut off at any moment if someone gets hungry or hurt or left out or just starved for a little adult attention.) It's actually pretty fantastic, listening to each of their imaginations go wild. They started off outside and only came in when it started pouring. When it was just drizzling I called out to them, "You guys wanna come in, or are you going to tough it out?"

Four high-pitched voices called back to me, "Tough it out!"

Inside, I had an assembly line of sandwich-making operating at full speed for when they finally came in for lunch. They ran in, dropped their shoes at the door, nibbled a bit and went on their way. Not a sandwich was finished. I expected as much after the two little girls from next door came to join the two I was already watching (Molly and a pal) armed with a box of Yodels. The oldest one---a third grader whom, with the exception of her little sister, they all adore---doled out the treats and even asked me if I wanted some which I thought was especially sweet. Sometimes I think these kids don't know where I fit---I'm not quite the adult that their parents are, but I'm not a kid either. I figure as long as they keep offering me Yodels, I'm where I want to be. (And by the way, is there any better admittance pass to an impromptu neighborhood swingset hoedown than a box of Yodels? I think I'm going to bring Yodels to my next dinner party.)

The group has now moved into Molly's bedroom---a palace for any little girl. Her room is the largest in the house and, as this was a strategic move in order to keep most toys upstairs and out of the way, it is kiddie heaven. In one corner sits a wooden playhouse---large enough to hold all four girls plus babies in cribs and bassinets and all their diapers and bottles. My sister even put a little lamp in there that gets turned off when it's time for the Cabbage Patch Kids to get some rest. In another corner there's a toy kitchen stocked with tiny boxes of food, plastic fruits and vegetables and plates and utensils. Everywhere else there are shelves of stuffed animals and instruments, chests of dress-up clothes and makeup and ornate little boxes filled with baubles and jewels---some fake, some handed down from Molly’s mommy and aunties.

As I write I’m catching sight of each little girl scampering by my doorway, decked out in my sister’s old 80’s prom dresses. (One time---for the amusement of the kids and my sister---I donned one of these gowns and started playing out in the yard.) There is a massive hours-long game of “house” going on. Nobody wants to be the boy, everybody wants to be the teenager and every now and then I hear them giggling and saying, “Who farted?” which, of course, warrants a “whoever smelled it dealt it.” (It took everything in me not to yell from the next bedroom where I’ve stationed myself in order to be in earshot, “Whoever made up the rhyme committed the crime!”)

And, like that, my window is gone. The two little girls from next door went home and my original two are, of course, hungry. I have them cleaning up which should buy me a few more minutes.

School has only been out a couple of days but already I can feel these kids slipping seamlessly into that magic that is summer break. Day after day for the next two months their entire existence will be dedicated to having as much fun as possible. Caught up in all of life’s crap, I had forgotten that fantastic rush of freedom. Sometimes kids remind you of that stuff.

One last anecdote:

This morning in the car Molly’s friend said, “My grandpa’s in the hospital. He has diabetes and cancer. I went to visit him and gave him a hug.”

A silence sat in the car for just a minute and then Molly asked, “Did he smell weird?”

I love kids.

Of course, it should be noted that these are my thoughts after two days of summer vacation. Talk to me in August.