There's no way I can say this without coming off like a complete ass. So be it. I've been called much worse.
Two weeks ago, Zoey's preschool closed for summer vacation. It feels like it was two months ago.
She only went there three hours a day, three days a week. Nine measly hours. That's just a little more than a working day. So what's the big deal?
I could do so much in those three hours. Zed and I were able to spend some quality one-on-one time together. We could play, read, walk around the neighborhood, and laugh without worrying if and when his jealous sister would end our fun.
We could go grocery shopping, to Target, to the DMV, all those necessary duties that no one wants to do. Especially with two children in tow.
Since Zed naps in the morning (I swear, if it wasn't for the fact that the boy's tummy wakes him up, he'd sleep until 8), I was able to enjoy some much-needed me time. I could veg out and watch TV. I could read. I could write.
I could just recharge, you know?
September's a long way away.
School's Out Forever (At Least It Feels That Way)
