Day of The Sloth

Today, my son made up a new holiday, which I shall call The Day of the Sloth. It was around 2:10, last Friday, when he thought it up, just as I was heading over to pick up Morgen from his last day of school. I'll admit, I am dreading the thought of summer, but also loving it too. I'm dreading the end of my freedom from children for six hours a day, but loving not having to drive to the high school in the middle of the day or worry about homework or practice or projects. It will be fun to just hang out with the kiddoes.

But still, the end of school for them means vacation. Yet for me it means the end of my vacation and the start of more work. Morgen, today he invented a little holiday for himself.

It occurred to me that what he really wanted to do was to lay on our couch with a bowl of ice cream and possibly a bag of red licorice. He wanted to just do nothing. He realized he wanted to be a sloth. Hence, the holiday was born. And it was lovely. Morgen watched a movie, noshing on the licorice and slurping ice cream. For dinner, he had cereal and toast. And for dessert, more ice cream. When I came home, I found him bloated and happy, the dog curled up next to him.

"Welcome to The Day of the Sloth," he said, waving his arm. "Come, join me."

But slothful behavior doesn't come naturally to me. I just shook my head and stomped up the stairs to the kitchen. Morgen looked at Molly, shrugged and continued the celebration.

The Day of the Sloth was so successful that he is thinking of expanding it to an entire week. Perhaps even a whole summer. I was thinking about joining him, but then, who would do the laundry?