Years ago, before I had kids of my own, I was talking to a friend on the phone and all of a sudden, she gasped loudly and said, “We don’t use that word in this house!” to her young son. I could’ve minded my own business and carried on with the conversation, but what fun is that? I had to know what was said.
My mind went wild with possibilities of “that word.” It had to be an obscenity, right? But which one? There were so many to choose from! I casually asked my friend what was going on and was shocked by her response.
Her little boy had uttered the “b” word. But hold on – it’s not what you’re thinking. He had said he was bored. Bored. That was the word. Admittedly, I rolled my eyes, underwhelmed by the news.
Several years and two kids later, I totally get it. As soon as I hear the “b” word, I become a lunatic listing off 15 chores my wide-eyed child could do RIGHT NOW. Toilets need cleaning, laundry folding, shelves dusting. Somehow, my rant immediately squelches said boredom.
Now that we’re on the brink of summer vacation, this topic has been on my mind and here’s why: My kids are signed up for swimming lessons at the local high school, we’re visiting my sister’s cabin for a few days, and possibly taking a trip out of state. Otherwise, there will be hours and hours of time to fill.
Thinking about it makes me a little twitchy because of my own summers back in the 80s and 90s. I’m the much-youngest of seven children, so my siblings were all out of the house before I got out of grade school. This meant I had a lot of time alone. A whole lot of time alone actually. And by alone, I mean that my parents were both home, but did absolutely nothing to entertain me. I was on my own for hours, days, months. Summer after summer after summer.
I took swimming lessons (my mom never learned to swim, so she made all seven of us take lessons for years) and begged to be signed up for soccer and tennis. But if I participated in anything, I had to find my own ride and sometimes that was more trouble than it was worth.
If there’s one word I’d use to describe my summer vacations as a child it would be the “b” word. I was deeply, memorably bored. I’m not an adventurous person, so I never strayed too far from home. There were no neighborhood kids nearby. We didn’t belong to a country club or live on a lake with its built-in entertainment.
So here’s how it played out: I r…… Read the rest of the summer story by Carol Heffernan by clicking here.