Skipping

I used to be a big time skipper. One year in high school I accumulated 75 absences on my report card, though I'm not sure if I was ever sick. I was overly involved and had many approved absences for various clubs and organizations, but I was also raised by a mother who didn't want my schooling to get in the way of my education and I gave myself lots of excuses to do so.

Mr. Man never skipped.

Even when we were going to school together in Hawaii, a plea from me to miss just one tiny class so we could go to the beach was met with a little smile but an "of course not" gleam in his eyes.

And yet now I'm letting my three year old, the eager for more classes child, to skip out on his swimming lessons. It's just not worth the battle.

So while the three older kids do this:


(Yes, even Mr. T is in the water, which is partially why I'm not too worried about Little J's playing hookie... I wish I'd taken a picture of Little J - it would have looked identical to the one I linked to of Mr. T!)

The youngest little monkey and I are playing hide and seek and other memorable childhood games. Or skipping out entirely and swinging at the park.






Part of me wonders what I am starting here, and the other part is enjoying what I know won't ever last.