Our summer vacation is quickly drawing to a close.

Sure, we have a few good weeks of at home togetherness until school starts, but I already purchased all of their back to school junk (stupid Target back to school sales that started in June) and they will all be on the field for fall sports next week.

Even though it’s not fall yet. Not even about to be. But who am I to argue with the league of extraordinary travel soccer leaders and youth football coaches?

No one. Clearly.

In case my slight bitterness isn’t evident here, let me state, for the record, that I’m feeling a little put out because I’m just not ready to kiss summer goodbye yet.

Or to say hello to another school year of rushed responsibilities.

I don’t want to fall fully into my position as PTA secretary. I’m not ready to sit around every night and pour over homework. I am dreading having to drag small people out of their beds every morning just so I can yell at them to get their butts in gear and run around with one sock and one slipper getting them ready.

This is the part of summer I love.

When we are fully immersed in it. Used to this routine. Content to get up and go to the pool or the lake or the couch for the day. Happy to decide to eat ice cream for lunch, and breakfast for dinner.

I recently sat on the couch and eavesdropped on The Dudes while they worked on a project together.

Because they never do projects together. At least not without someone tattling, whining, crying, or running off to get a sword pout. But, this time, the sounds warmed my heart.

Never mind that they were collaborating to do something I didn’t want them to do (putting up a punching bag I had told them we were getting rid of). Never mind that they broke something afterwards. Never mind that every single one of them ended up crying (that’s what happens when you get bashed with a punching bag in your face, yo).

It was those few minutes of camaraderie -a togetherness that they don’t get to enjoy when school and sports and work and sports and life and junk gets in the way, that made me tear up. Their brotherhood was on display in a way that I long to see everyday and it reminded me of what I love most about being the mom to three boys. Not the fact that I am the only princess in my home, not the fact that I don't have a bunch of lady hormones to deal with, certainly not the fact that I can't find an inch of quiet in this house.

It's their brotherhood.

A brotherhood that I hope grows into a lifelong friendship they will cherish and count on as they age. A strong brotherhood that will be there when they are lonely, or scared, or sad, or nervous. A brotherhood they can rely on when there are few things left for them to rely on. A brotherhood that I am happy to nourish on long summer days when all we have to worry about is ice cream for dinner.