An advantage to Massachusetts' location on the earth is that during the summer, it is light when my boys wake.
You know...a leisurely 6am.
I can almost be convinced that it is normal to get up that early. Almost. Thankfully, my parents took the boys most mornings and I got to go back to bed and sleep until past 8am most mornings. It's like they read my mind in that all I wanted for Christmas is either to sleep in or total body laser hair removal.
Adding to the charm of a New England summer morning is this whole thing called "nighttime cooling." We don't have that in Atlanta. Sure, my parents don't have air conditioning, but dare I say even on a 90 degree day I was chilly the subsequent night with the windows open.
What we have are perfect mornings to shake all of our sillies outside and run the boys ragged so by lunchtime naps are inevitably.
In theory. I still giggle when people say to me, "they'll sleep well tonight!" Actually, people predominately say that they'll sleep "good." If it weren't 2 decades since my grammar school lessons, I would probably be able to let you know if that was an appropriate use of the word "good" or not. Now I can just tell you what poop belongs to what boy based on aroma alone.
My boys still defy the laws of all predictable childhood somnolence. The more activity they engage in, the more their fast twitch muscles and brains refuse to slow down ...the more their anatomy goes bonkers, the less interested in sleep they become...so by the transitive property of Ali's made-up mathematics, the more activity the boys get = worse sleep.
Cool, sunny mornings that smell like Boston baked beans and Yankees makes me happy. And so does watching my boys play on toys that I had as a child. It's like my kids already know it's hip to be vintage.
The coveted toy was the tiny ride on motorcycle that my oldest brother had. So, yeah, this thing is about to be celebrating it's over-the-hill birthday.
This hog is old, but don't let it's weathered appearance fool you. The thing can FLY down a sloped and paved driveway. And it can hold 140lbs of thoroughbred stallion racing to see how far he can take it into the grass. (Grainy phone video.) Eric did this for like 40 minutes straight.
We tore up the driveway with scooters as well. Unlike last year, this year we added a chalk element: we linked two scooters together and Miles would hold a huge piece of chalk on the driveway to "trace" our path. I'm not going to lie. I love ride on toys.
The last of the driveway moments included an aerobie disc. (Look closely and you will notice Felix's throw is about to slice Miles's head.)
If you ever need a pinch thrower for Frisbee (made that gem up) PLEASE call me. Felix is freakin' amazing at pitching a disc, and Miles takes the prize for the best catching ability. T-ball? I cannot stomach. Frisbee? I'm all over it like Felix on an insect.
I think my parents would agree that the driveway moments we had during our week in MA were some of the best...outside of Miles telling Grandpa that he has a "big tummy" as Felix simultaneously peed on their deck during a moment at dinner. Although, depending on your emotional maturity, that could have been one of the best moments, too.