summertime

I love summertime. I grew up on a cul-de-sac of 12 houses. We would head out right after breakfast and roam the neighboorhood until at least dinnertime. We'd ride our bikes, go crawdad hunting, play football, organize our own olympics, spend days at the pool, and our parents didn't worry if it was a few hours between check ins. We'd pick a different house every day for lunch, depending on who had what in their refrigerator (ok, Chad has hot dogs, Ger has peanut butter sandwiches, all I've got is spagettios) and me being the only girl in the bunch wasn't a big deal to anyone. In fact, I always won Kill The Guy With The Ball.

I feel bad sometimes for kids now because they don't get to grow up with that kind of a carefree life. Between art camp, baseball practice, dance classes, golf lessons, swimteam practice, gymnastics and every other very worthwhile activity, there's not much time left to just play. And heaven forbid I ask my son to turn off the video games and go out and ride his bike. It seems sometimes imagination is a lost art. Not to mention if my kids don't check in at least every 30 minutes I'm ready to call the police. And have to seen the cartoons lately? Ok, I'm an admitted Spongebob Squarepants junky, but what happened to Speed Buggy and Grape Ape and Bugs Bunny?

I do agree that children today have definite advantages, and they need those advantages to succeed in the world that will be theirs' as adults. But I often think those advantages come with a pretty high price tag, when I see a six year old walking down the street talking on a cell phone, or when a stick is just a stick - instead of a sword.