To schedule summer or let it ride?

That is the question, in my mind, at least.

Today is my kiddos last day of school, and I'm heading into a pandemic-plagued summer with a

rising fourth-grader,

rising first-grader,

and a powerhouse little lady who is heading into Pre-K 4.

If I don't plan accordingly, these varied-aged youngsters will commandeer this unsteady ship like a band of pirate-booty eating, juice guzzling, havoc-wreaking freebooters.

They will

endure the summer learning slide,

probably fall into a sugar coma once or twice,

sleep in,

and

stay up late.

Things will get broke and tore,

like my spirit and my furniture.

They will rule the roost while I, the chicken, stand watching,

exhausted,

terrified,

and

way too under-inebriated to allow this sort of debauchery run amock.

BUT, if I enFORCE a schedule,

all will

continue to grow intellectually,

remain motivated and driven,

stay curious and exploratory,

and, most importantly,

behave.

OR, they won't.

They will push back.

They will know it is summer and demand it be such.

They will beg for adventures of the spontaneous kind.

They will engulf themselves in the things they enjoy.

They will assert their earned desire to establish for themselves a routine that feels right.

They will make a strong argument that they should be their own activity director, and I will, hesitantly, but semi-thankfully agree to take a more backseat role.

To schedule summer or let it ride?

Here's what I'm thinking --

I won't be too strict, and I won't let it ride.

Instead, my anthem this summer will be "Mama tried."

I'll try to make it fun.

I'll try to keep it simple.

I'll try to make sure they don't "lose their learning."

Most importantly, though, I'll just keep doing the one thing I do naturally, without having to try, which is loving them good and hard with every fiber of my being.