by Julie Anne Thornton
Okay, so it's here. School's out, the sprinkler's are on, and I am armed with enough sunblock to protect an army, or my army at least. Liquid protection for my miniature soldiers who stand at the front of the battlefield formerly known as home, but now since transformed into a lair of strict strategy.
I have to be shrewd, cunning in my effort to keep my troop from the leering threat of summer melt down. With a determined brow, I solemnly vow the words "We're bored" will not wave its menacing face within the walls of our fort.
I know, I hear your snickering. Go ahead, you can say it. Good luck sweetheart! The same sentiments haunted my head...but I forced them out, remaining firm--loyal to my goal.
Organized job schedules, piano practice, and structured reading time...and what happens?
Before I can take some sort, any sort of evasive action, the voices come. "What can we do? We're (oh no, please don't say it. Please...) bored!"
Take a deep breath, and then another. Think of a soothing...hold on. It appears a diaper clad soldier is clutching at my pant-leg and hollering through dramatic tears about something. What? Your doll...outside...over the fence?
Time to call in for reinforcements.
"Honey...when are you coming home?"
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