The last day of school is my favorite one of the year. Field day is tomorrow, and my friends and I have been training since Christmas. I’m thinking that as long as it isn’t too muddy we might just be able to pull off a win in the wheelbarrow race with my best friend Mark. It was kinda slippery last year, and being the head of the wheelbarrow, I was the one that ate the mud. But we were first graders then. Now I’m practically a third grader, and I’m still going against the little kids so it should be a piece of cake. I’m excited to be a third grader, but I don’t want school to end! I love my teachers and friends so much and I’m going to miss them this summer. Its going to be my first year away at camp and I’m nervous. I better enjoy this last day while it lasts.
The last day of school is always bittersweet. The thought of summer has been ringing in my head since the first warm day we had this year…in March. I’ve been keeping a countdown since then; every day at breakfast I would say “76 more days, Mom!”, “54 more days, Mom!”, “28 more days, Mom!”, then finally, this morning, “1 MORE DAY!” But now that I’m thinking about things more and more, I’m worried that this summer wont be as great as I had hoped. I’m working at the rec. program in my town for nearly no money, and my mom’s making me take it really seriously. That means no hanging out with friends on nights before work, and being really rested and whatever. But I feel like that’s all I have to look forward to after the week of testing I have had to suffer through. Ugh. I just need a break.
I just need a break. All my family does is do, do, do; go, go, go. Our vacation over spring was very relaxing and well-deserved, but this summer is going to be so stressful. My son is going away for camp in July for the first time and my daughter has a job working with the kids in the neighborhood at the recreational camp. And that doesn’t even mean life stops for me; I still have work! This is chaos.
This is chaos. I HATE summer. I don’t think anyone can relate when I describe the frustration in every aspect of summer I feel. The heat is unbearable, and no one can possibly imagine the pain I go through. And now, the kid’s home 24/7. Ugh, the suffering I go through! He always wants me to run around and bring him Frisbees that he idiotically throws all the way across the yard and then screams at me to bring them back. How is it my problem? You’re the one that threw it. I’d like to see a switch in roles around here, that boy wouldn’t know what was coming.