It’s not official (this according to Sam) because “we never have school on Saturdays.”

We:

Built a giant fort in the clean playroom.

This is either the best fort ever or a huge mess. So many things depend on your perspective, don't they?

• Made a headband from the official American Girl Doll “have-your-mommy-make-you-a-headband” kit.
  

  I learned how to make a ruffle. Very educational.

• Had a thunderstorm.
• Put out a sprinkler and our sad excuse for a wading pool (the former Little Tykes frog-shaped sandbox. I’m getting complaints).
• And wrapped up with a styling session:
  

  I love Rory's expression here. She's thrilled.

Was it an awesome day? I’d say so. Sam would say so too, now, but he did earlier say something along the lines of “I have to remember that some days of summer are going to be really exciting and we will have a lot planned, but not all of them.” Because there is perspective and perspective, and Sam seems to have been born with perspective.

Rory had an awesome day when Lily poured the full sunshine of her attention on her, and when she got to watch “Dora Superbabies” with Wyatt (who often pretends this is too babyish for him).

Lily had a playdate and a birthday party and a visit to the swimming pool and thus a totally different day than that of the three who never left the house.

Wyatt got sent to his room for throwing a lacrosse ball at the screen door right after his daddy told him not to, and right after the (expensive, elaborate) patio umbrella collapsed (dramatically and with the breaking of a four-by-four post) in the winds of the impending thunderstorm. That’s not about perspective, it’s about timing.

The plan tonight is to sleep in the giant fort, (not me, for God’s sake, them) and if I am feeling really, really good mother-y, I will let them stay up late and go outside and catch the abundance of fireflies I spotted on the edge of the woods last night. I note here that in this my definition of a “good mother” differs from the one that, I think, plagued my own mother: she would have let me catch fireflies but felt that, because I was not in bed at the right time, she had failed to meet the “good mother” standards her own mother set. Again, perspective.

I think I would meet my own mom’s “good mother” standards if I just drank a glass of wine and let them get on with it instead of worrying about it so much. Because I have an awesome mom. And so I am going to go uncork my favorite. Ah, summer!