ALWAYS ENDS UP DANCING GANGNAM STYLE

Listen: RADICAL FACE / MOUNTAINS

Checker competitions where I refuse to go easy on him, but promise I'll treat him to ice-cream when he beats me. Twisted strands of duct tape between their small fingers, piecing together cardboard castles that tower until floppy feet high. Hybrid Twister in the front yard with the neighbor girl, acting like a bunch of crazies singing, dancing and yodeling. Talent shows: in an instant the living room is an opera house and there are magic shows and somehow, he always ends of dancing Gangnam Style (and somehow it doesn't get old). Solving riddles in their scavenging hunt. Two fistfuls of coins, a piggy bank and a walk to Lloyd's Drug Store for candy. Endless games of war, animal rescue, Pretty Pretty Princess, pirates, sea-monsters and mermaids, baby dragons, classroom, chef, lava monster, felt dolls, foxtail, bocce ball, and chalk tic-tac-toe. Sugar highs and silly questionnaires at a sticky blue booth in Culvers. Chopping down trees and exploring lava mines in Minecraft: one-on-one lessons from a Minecraft pro. Cheering them down water-slides and racing their tubes around lazy rivers. Twenty minute safety break after 20 minute line: learning patience. Tree-climbing in sappy pines, ropes tied like hammocks. Biking the sidewalks like cool cats. Scavenging clues. Forts to sit in where they say, 'Make it scarier, Moriah, make it scarier,' as I tell ghost stories until their eyes turn into saucers. Picnics in the field with watercolors, acrylics, and peppermints. Cutting Kirby's out of felt. Obstacle courses made up of hoses, patio furniture, and water balloons. Splashing oatmeal scented shampoo on the muddy dog in the tub with a giggling four-year-old. Losing Monopoly to a really lucky eight-year-old. Pancake disasters. Celebrating all our unbirthdays with woopie pies and singing. Taking turns designing treasure maps to find the box with the red 'x'. Losing at Mario Party.. again and again and again. Reading and reading and rereading the same books. Hours of telling and telling and retelling the same stories. Opening a lemonade stand on the corner and having only one customer: the neighbor next door. 


This is my summer job.