It’s nearly MAY, my friends. This is crazy sauce.
School is out in a MONTH. Well, a month and a half, but I always round up to my advantage. Let’s just say I’m a bit excited. Like the time I found out Netflix had added Dirty Dancing to its streaming options, excited.
Like, Patrick Swayze, “The Time of My Life,” hip swivel, finger snapping, right down the middle aisle, kind of excited.
Summer approacheth! We are going to: go to the pool, ride bikes, you know, all the typical summer things. Popsicles. Air conditioning. Mom swimsuits. Embracing the cellulite. The perfume of chlorine and sunblock. I AM READY. NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER! Let’s do this!
My children, however, are torn. When I informed them both about summer’s quick approach, both were pretty stoked about the pool. But Red is kinda convinced his teacher will be there with him, poolside, doing projects with glitter and paint and other nuttiness. The other, Blonde, gets summer break and all. But also? He expects… projects. Crafts. He wants stimulating learning activities, my friends. He doesn’t call them that, of course, because that would be weird. He calls them: “Mommah, can we make a hydroplane? Like the kind that goes on the water? With glitter? And paint? And, we need to make sure its roomy enough for a pilot and one cat.”
Sure, honey, let me get right on that.
Let my clarify: my children are not weird. They just love homework all time. They live for tri-folded poster boards, people. They like charting things.
Ok, maybe they’re a little weird. But I prefer to refer to them as:
Ridiculously Smart. So Smart They Want to Chart How Many Poopies are in the Litter Box Today.
My house is covered in funnels, rubber bands, and strange bottles of murky liquid left in the sun that is a “Science Speariment.” We live in a gigantic Rube Goldberg creation, and I am forever dismantling “Da MOST important parts!” because, well the last one was utilizing the toilet flusher knob, and it was just kinda gross.
Something like, oh… THIS:
If we’re going to survive the summer, I better up my game.
And by that I mean:
Once again, The Great Netflix has bestowed us with a show that we LOVE.
I can’t really explain this show. It’s for smart people. You know, like my wonderful children. The show is a fast-paced, funny, often mesmerizing look at how our brain works.
I know, right? This stuff is so educational and fabulous I don’t know why I just don’t pull them out of school and make them watch this all day long.
Just KIDDING. Sort of.
So. To review, for those of you who have children who are not mensa bound: this show will still make you watch and then blink, and then tilt your head to the side, turn to your husband, and say, “What the WHAT??? Did you see THAT? This show is better than a gin martini!” (Disclaimer: Meaning, the show makes your brain all hummy and wonky. It literally “messes with your head.” But in a good, non-substance kind of way. You know that’s a post for another day.)
For those of you who have children painfully intelligent? They’ll watch it and then turn to you and say,
“Mommy, my synapses are firing all over da places now. And now I need some omega three foods to restore my DHA.”
“Well, here you go, dear. Here’s a salmon pop. But eat it outside; it smells like cat food.”
Thank you Netflix! You have saved my summer.
And, I leave you with this. Because. It’s awesome. Embrace summer! It’s the Time of Your Life, so come in hot.