Summer

I think it's safe to say that summer has arrived in the north county. (Whatever happened to spring?) Left to their own devices, the kids would revert to some thoroughly wild state. They are testing all the rules. They chafe when they encounter limits. They play and play and play, stopping only long enough for food, most of which they eat on the run (and in our living room, which is a disaster). They are happiest when they are filthy. Our house is wrecked. Grass clippings and sand wander in on their feet. Someone always wants water or a bowl of cereal. Bedtime is a very real battle. (It's not dark yet. It has only been dark for a little while. It has only been dark for an hour or two.) No one wants to tumble out of bed in the morning. Sure signs of summer...We face six remaining days of school, after which I return for three days of in-service training. We are almost there...

We had a whopping lot of fun tonight. The festivities included a visit from Susan Guilmette, who thought our little Dora might like some banana bread, and a last-minute ride out to the golf course, where we launched a rocket. We lost the rocket, of course, but Katie and Josh were happy to be out with their friends, and they took turns driving a golf cart, so that was exciting. (And dangerous.) Tomorrow's schedule includes a t-ball game in Irasburg. Josh plays for the Glover Pirates, and I think he enjoys himself. We're all looking forward to summer soccer.

About summer: People have been asking about Katie's schedule. She continues to troop through the third phase of her treatment (Interim Maintenance), and she is doing very well. The doctors are pleased with her progress, and she is relatively comfortable. Her treatment plan shifts, though, in early July, and this next phase, which is called Delayed Intensification, will not be pleasant. She will have to take steroids again, and she will take some of the same medications that made her so very sick this winter. Her cell counts will drop, and she will need transfusions. She will have to spend some time in isolation. The doctors took time to review her treatment plan with Rick. While this stage is not likely to be fun for anyone, I'm glad we know what to expect.

All this is simply to say that we are trying to fit in as much fun as possible before all heck busts loose again. We are talking about a trip to the zoo. I want to go to the museum of children's picture book art, and the Montshire Museum is calling. Don't worry if you can't find us. We're going to try to fit a summer into two or three short weeks. You're welcome to come with us, of course...Happy Summer, all.