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“School
days, school days, dear old broken rule days.”
Three months ago our kids
sprang into summer. Hurdled—dragging us with them. But now that school
is back, it’s like trying to stuff a puffy pillow into a pillow case. I
want to hold them by their waistbands and shake vigorously. You
will fit into this.
We’ve all had our fun—or
whatever that was—and normal beacons.
Unfortunately, our kids will not go down without a fight. To help them
surrender their summer freedom without calling out the National Guard,
take note of these valuable back-to-school rules:
1. Thou shalt get up on time.
During summer, my kids got up when they woke up, so a week before
school starts, I play my oldie-goldie favorites. Full blast. At 7 AM.
The effects of “Rock Around the Clock” and “Shout” on a child’s sleepy
mind makes the intrusion of an alarm clock seem mellow once school
actually begins.
2. Thou shalt wear shoes.
Shoes
are for civilized people— not my kids. Unfortunately, schools have the
rule “No shirt, no shoes, no service” (do flip-flops count?);
therefore, I take advantage of the shoe company’s ad campaigns and
point out how fast they’ll be able to run, jump, and play with rubber
cushioning their little piggies. Gullibility can be a gift.
3. Thou shalt wear underwear.
During the summer, my kids live in their swimsuits (it does save on
laundry). But because school officials frown at too much skin and the
smell of chlorine, I relegate the faded suits to the nearest toxic
waste site. Then I buy my girls some of those Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday underwear to remind them that the days of the week have
names. For our son? A package of spanking-new whitie-tighties. What can
I say? They’re a classic.
4. Thou shalt eat at a table.
With chairs. And napkins. And even a fork. After spending the summer
eating between ball games, water fights, and Barbie marathons, I set
the table and make them sit down and eat. If they say please and thank
you, I toss them a cookie. Good dog.
5. Thou shalt stop growing.
The
age-old goal is to get last month’s Visa bill paid before they outgrow
their new clothes. That hasn’t changed, but styles have. Remember the
thrill of wearing a special first-day-of-school dress or shirt? And new
school shoes? Crisp. Neat. It’s hard for a T-shirt—new or not—to be
crisp. And a pair of baggy shorts and untied sneakers are eons away
from neat (and that’s my daughters’ attire.) As for the extra inches
they keep adding to their physiques, try the old book-on-the-head
trick. It’s a good way for them to get in touch with the dictionary.
6.
Thou
shalt read. The end of summer signals the downloading of
muscles
and the uploading of the brain. A week before school starts, I make
them read quietly for an hour a day. When they ask what they did to
deserve such punishment, I tell them this is the way it was done in
olden times. At this point, if they reference my age, they have to read
for two hours. Want to try for three?
7. Thou shalt remember 1 + 1 =
2. If you’ve been good parents (exceptional, extraordinary
parents),
you’ve made your child read, practice their clarinet, and add random
numbers throughout the summer to prevent brain mush. However, if
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you’ve
been busy figuring out how to keep them safely occupied while you’re at
work, or what to make for lunch for three months, you may have accepted
brain mush as a viable summer alternative. If so, you need to
reintroduce the concept of math. Take the kids shopping and ask them to
figure out how much their jeans cost at 40 percent off. Or how about: If
Mom and a carload of kids leave the house at 2 o’clock to go on
errands, traveling at 45 mph until the kids spill their drinks in the
car after five minutes, how many minutes—and miles—will it take for
said mother to decide to go home and shop online? After
taxing their brains in such a manner, they’ll be eager to get back to
school.
8. Thou shalt listen.
No, not
to their computer, iPod, Game Boy, cell phone, or TV. And not even to
you. For during the craziness of summer, haven’t even you
sometimes forgotten to linger in the silence, to hear your own breath
go in and out, to savor now? For how can we hear
what God has to tell us if we constantly have noise inundating our
lives? He listens to us. Isn’t it time we return the favor? “But the
LORD is in his holy temple; let all the earth be silent before him”
(Hab. 2:20 NIV). So shush yourselves. Turn everything off. And listen
to the Teacher of the universe.
9. Thou shalt breathe a sigh of
relief. This advice isn’t just for us parents. Even kids
get tired of
summer and long for—
Never mind. Number nine is just
for parents, because after enduring the question “But Mom, what can we
do now?” 275 times (and coming up with 270 good answers and five
questionable suggestions), we need to rejoice that our child’s pain is
our gain and wallow in the upcoming nine months of school.
Until next summer—when we’ll
forget everything we learned and make the same mistakes. Don’t fret it.
That’s just the way it is—and has been since time began. “Then I
applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also of madness and
folly, but I learned that this, too, is a chasing after the wind”
(Eccl. 1:17 NIV).
Wisdom, madness, folly . . .
that’s summer. Enjoy it. Every chaotic minute. For this too shall pass.
Too quickly.
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