Summer Part III

"I can't wait for Winter, Daddy!" Owen announced cheerily at breakfast the other day. Now I can't say, living here in Chicago, that that is a statement you hear very often, if ever. I was especially surprised considering it was another beautiful 80 degree day and he had nothing but playing and fun on his agenda for the day. Curious, I asked him what exactly he couldn't wait for about Winter. He then starting waxing poetic about all the fun we were going to have. When pressed for specifics, he came up with sledding, and eventually, Christmas.

Now I view one of my many jobs as a parent as helping prepare my kids for the less pleasant aspects of life, since who wants to encounter the inevitable setbacks and adversity and unpleasant surprises life has in store without the appropriate tools to process the event and move on. With my worrying ways, and my wife's unrelenting and sometimes alarming lack of worrying, I am uniquely suited within the family to take on this task. That is why, in the face of Owen's enthusiasm, I found myself concerned about the letdown to come, as summer eased into the chill of fall, followed by the frenzy and (intermittent) joy of Christmas, and finally, weeks of hard, unrelenting, bitter cold before Spring once again comes around. I briefly found myself telling him how much more fun summer, with its whirlwind of swimming, vacations, fun and freedom was than winter. To his credit, he seemed completely unswayed, and continued to talk about winter with unabated enthusiasm.

And so it goes. Summer with its many pleasures is quickly giving way to fall. Owen is now back at his second year of pre-school without a peep of protest (those looking for the requisite touching and bittersweet parental blog entry about letting go as a child heads off to school will have to look elsewhere, at least this year). The only concrete indication of sadness at summer's passing so far has been Cooper's shrill, tortured shrieks and uncontrollable sobbing every time his feet are imprisoned in socks or, God forbid, shoes. If nobody else seems fazed, I am certainly not going to dwell on summer's passing. This point was reinforced this past weekend when I attended not just one, but two gatherings where late night conversations around fire pits with friends and neighbors reminded me that every season has its joys, and that the best way to ward off the cold is to arm ourselves with Owen's cheery enthusiasm for life and to bask in the warm glow of our relationships with friends and family. So, having learned something about life from my four year old once again, I am ready to bid farewell to summer with nothing more than a "thanks for a great time" and "see you again next year" as I head off with Owen and the rest of the crew to pursue fun and adventure in the seasons ahead.