Today is the last day of school for my kids. We are on the threshold of unstructured afternoons, lazy beach days, amazing feats of sibling nattering and vacation road trips. Which means it’s time to for uber-mom to put on her game face.
There’s no shortage of gaming going on here in my little corner of the world and I know I’m not alone when I say that my head is about to explode every time I hear the words ‘Just a minute, lemme finish this level’.
I’ll be damned if the summer is going to go down in a blaze of zombie/plants/minecraft/cod glory. I do a thumb check on my kids some nights after a particularly lengthy gaming session to see if they have grown abnormally disproportionate to their other digits. So far they should still be able to get prom dates.
I have a parenting style that falls somewhere between Carol Brady and R. Lee Ermey. I bake brownies and give reassuring hugs combined with well thought out praise/admonishment in the appropriate teachable moments. I want our family to have the lets-sing-show-tunes/station wagon/Grand Canyon family-style vacation.
But don’t f*** with me by bringing that laptop/hand-held gaming whatchamajigger on our trip, ignoring all the scenic beauty. Or I will take you down. I’m old-school and prefer good ol‘ backseat bickering, invisible lines and threats to pull over or turn this car around or whatever happens when I count to three.
Last weekend we did a dry run road trip to Mojo Monkey Donut Shop. This place makes artisan sweets and is a nirvana of glazed goodness–definitely a must-have/see/smell. They do a bacon wrapped maple glazed long john that you’d knock your grandmother down for if it were the last one in the box. We don’t have a donut shop in our town, or any town within decent range and I flat-out refuse to get my fix at the gas station convenience store.
Miracle of miracles, we actually made it to Mojo Monkey and back (approximately 30 miles) without a Fruit Ninja or Office Jerk sighting and only trace amounts of bickering. The sunroof was open, leaving the aroma of maple and bacon in our wake, and all was right with the world. There were no singalongs, but we have plenty of time to work up to that over the next 90 days.
Feel free to join in on the chorus: Sweet Car-o-line (wo, wo, wo)…