Most of my friends’ summers this year consist of summer study abroad programs in places like Greece, coming back from semester abroad programs, and internships for potential future careers. My summer doesn’t include any of these. No, I am serving as a nanny for three kids; one little girl who is six and three quarters (she always has to add the three quarters) and twins; a girl and a boy of four. As the family nanny, I chauffeur the three little rugrats to their swimming classes, gymnastics lessons, and sports camps. I know which kid gets the orange, green, or blue plates, because, God forbid, they get the wrong colored plate. My sanest moments are with the 10-year old yellow lab, Roma. Thankfully she and I have become buddies.
Okay now that I have ranted about the kids, I swear that I actually do love being with them. Spending my days with them reminds me of what summers used to be for me as a kid. I remember scorching hot days spent with my friends at the village pool. We played Marco Polo until our fingers were crinkled and blue. We giggled waiting in line for the diving board every time the 5th grade basketball star did a canon ball. The best menu item at the pool’s snack bar was a Tweety Bird ice cream bar with blue gum balls for eyes. There were days when all the kids on the block would get into a water fight with balloons and squirt guns. It was every kid for him or herself.
In the early evenings, we played ghosts in the graveyard until our parents called us back home for dinner. The teams were always boys versus girls. I was always the kid with the bruised knees from falling off the monkey bars or scrapping my knees while rollerblading (I never wore knee pads). There was one summer when everyone had a Razor scooter, and if you didn’t have one, you weren’t considered “cool.” We hosted lemonade stands and celebrated like lottery winners if we made $10 off of returning commuters from the city.
I miss the summers where your only job was to be a kid. Now we stress over the oft-asked question “what do you want to do with your life?” Every time I get this question I die a little inside because, to be honest, how am I supposed to know? I am only twenty years old. I still burn my toast every morning, so how am I supposed to know what I want to do with my life? I know that, in time, I will figure it out. But watching three little kids as they learn to swim and play the familiar neighborhood games makes me realize that life hurries by. The good times aren’t just what lies ahead; some of the best times are already past.
So I say, why not get a group of friends together and play capture the flag. Go get slushies and drink them as fast as possible to see who’s the first one to get a brain-freeze. Everyone is telling us that it’s time to “grow up” and that we have to face the “real world.” Yeah, it is time for us to grow up, but we are still big kids at heart. Let’s be kids again.