As the school year comes to a close here in the Northeast, millions of parents are putting loaded guns into their mouths. 

Please, please, please let it end. I just cannot manage to help Jonah prep for another six chapter, comprehensive vocabulary test. Then there was Ian's goddamn desert ecosystem diorama. Another freakin' IEP meeting. Intermediate band recital. Don't forget the paper plates for the social skills party at the park. Someone needs to put together the mess kits and roll up the sleeping bags from the Boy Scout rafting trip. Did you send in the forms for the fall soccer program? No. How about CCD? No. Did you get a babysitter for next Friday night? No. I suppose you didn't pop the tomato plant into the ground and it's getting all wilty on the porch. Yup. Loser. 

That's it. I'm on strike. 

This morning, the kids and I curled up on the sofa under the one blue blanket. We usually watch the Today show for ten minutes or so, until the caffeine kicks in and I start making breakfast. We couldn't watch it this morning, because the boys have started calling each other "Anthony Weiner."

"You're Anthony Weiner." "No, you're Anthony Weiner Dog." 

My boys are very mature. They take after their momma. 

Instead, we looked at pictures of Cape Cod on my iPad. And for some reason, YouTube videos of Les Miz. 

There's a wiff of sea breeze in the air. A hint of vacation time and a book on the beach. Sunburn, here I come!