I’m bored. What are we doing today? There’s nothing to do. Barbequed burgers AGAIN? Ah, the sounds of summer. If you have a preteen, these sounds of sulky boredom are about as familiar to summer as the sounds of lawnmowers or grasshoppers. I now have two ‘preteen‘ sons - actually, one is now a real teen but I‘ve decided not to accept this, so there you go - and my goodness, life is boring, isn‘t it? Hiking is boring, their brothers are boring, I believe I may even secretly be boring. In the beginning, it seems like a clean slate. The first few days of summer are pretty giddy for them, they stay up late doing nothing, wake up late, eat and then skateboard around looking depressed. I mean, really, what could be more fun than that? But shockingly, the sweet taste of freedom turns sour. For all of us. I want them to be ‘stand-up’ citizens and do some volunteering of their time, maybe pushing the elderly infirm around in wheelchairs or playing checkers with some old men in hats, that sort of thing. They want to hang out in their room and ‘jam’ with their guitar and drums. The same song over, and over, and over again. But it’s a really good song, guys, don’t get me wrong! Or hang out with their friends so that they can all look incredibly sophisticated and bored together (while drinking juice boxes, mind you).
The thing is, they don’t know what’s coming, the poor souls. They don’t know that in the next few years their lives are going to change, their friends will change, we will change. There are going to be a lot of decisions to be made for them in coming years about futures, girls, drinking, drugs. Right now is that magical time between. When they’re still just boys with little or no facial hair and voices that crackle a bit when they’re excited (sorry guys, it’s true). So my mission this summer, besides finding one of those really cool looking retro bikes with a basket on the front (let me know if you see one!), is to make it count. I’m going to force these boys to enjoy every last ounce of their childhood if it kills me! So I’ve come up with a sort of list to give me a hand - nothing fancy, nothing expensive, nothing difficult (except for #2 which might require a working knowledge of drills and such). So if you’re feeling a little stuck, go right ahead and rip off some of these ideas. And great good luck to us all!
1. Head to the beach just after dinner on a windy night. Let yourselves fall backwards into gigantic waves. Don’t care how you look while doing this one, and for Pete’s sake, don’t let anyone take a picture!
2. Build Your Own Go-Kart. Or at least hire someone to build it according to your specs. Or even better, let them do it with their friends while you bring them lemonade and cookies. Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a little like June Cleaver.
3. Sleep under the stars with astrology charts, flash lights and mounds of junk food. Bring bug spray and earplugs (so you don’t hear all of the little animals scurrying up to you in the night)
4. Go for a midnight hike. Actually try to stay quiet and listen to the sounds of nature at your feet, even if you’re really scared of owls (not that I am, naturally.)
5. Head to the library, each of you pick out your favourite book - or one you think the other person would love - and swap. Don’t complain if you have to read Captain Underpants - don’t punish him with a Danielle Steel.
6. Stay in bed on a rainy day with popcorn, movies, a journal and some drawing paper. Hang out in your jammies with no expectations, nowhere else to be, and no one else you’d rather be with. Just be.
7. Each of you choose a favourite hobby - gardening for you? Skateboarding for him? - and try your level best to learn as much as you can. Because all you’re really trying to do is ‘know’ each other beyond, Mom-cries-at-movies and Son-hates-to-bathe. You may be surprised.
8. Pick somewhere on the map you’ve never been within an hour’s drive and explore, explore, explore. Take your own food, your own water etc. and be a backpacker for the day.
9. Make a movie. Write your own script, make costumes, make backdrops completely commit yourself to the project. Accept that your part in the movie will be small, and that you may be killed off quite gruesomely by Act 2.
10. Lay in the grass, looking up at the sky, and remember what those last few breaths of childhood felt like. Make him remember too.