"Yes" to summer--finally

I say "yes" quite often. Will you cover this shift? Yes. Would you do this for me? Yes. Would you create this  class? Yes. Would you join us for this? Yes.

Hence -- I have had a summer-packed when the plan was for a summer-unpacked. Yesterday--Friday--was A Day When Nothing Else Had to Happen. No work; no class; no meeting; no play date.We went to the beach.

At first, Nate didn't want to go (shocking).


"This is the one day I can do this. It's today, or it's not happening. If  you want to stay home, the dog won't be here. He's going to board. I'm not breaking that reservation."

Grumble and mutter from Nate. We start out. All goes well. We're talking about deeper thoughts than usual--a favorite benefit to driving somewhere with Nate. As miles roll on, he opens up.

Then we got lost around Niles. We are on a highway but it turns into Main St. We were supposed to get off the highway then take another ramp back onto the same highway. I was so engaged talking, I missed it. Two gas station stops later, we're back on track.

We take a wrong turn and find New Buffalo. It's nice there: upscale compared to the farming villages to which I'm accustomed.

At the beach, we set up close to the water. A few kids run by and the girl's stance, her way of walking, her ponytail look like...someone from last year's homeschool group. It is that family. Their mom walks by, recognizes me, and the kids are set for the afternoon with friends.

We drove home without incident, got the dog without accident, and resisted the urge to make "one more stop" at the store. They were droopy from sun, and I was bracing myself for an evening pulling up carpet.

Since my over-yes nature applies to my kids (and to work they really could do on their own), this post from Penelope inspired a non-negotiable command that they empty the car of all beach-going-stuff and wash/walk the dog. Mild resistance (don't cave!), and they did it.