All good things must come to an end

And so we arrive at Sunday night, on the eve of returning to school after Spring Break. I distinctly remember suffering from the Sunday Night Blues for much of my college life, and much to my chagrin, the affliction has continued into much of my adult life. There's just something melancholic about the weekend ending.

Times a million for the last weekend of Spring Break.

John is more affected by this disorder than Caroline; she enjoys school enough that after a week off, she looks forward to getting back to the classroom. Little Man, notsomuch. His funk started early today - we didn't have to referee any fights to or from church, or even tell them to stop yelling and use a speaking voice more appropriate for small, confined spaces like the van. In fact, there was no conversation at all from the backseat. I turned around a few times on the way there and again on the way back, only to find John staring listlessly out the window.

Weird.

I have a little bit of parental guilt because we didn't take the kids somewhere on some Awesome Spring Break Trip. Somehow in the 30 years between my adolescence and my parenting days, vacations during the one week March respite have become almost compulsory. That's a pretty far cry from what I remember as a week of some sleeping in; some yard work; some washing windows; and general spring cleaning. Heading to the beach or the slopes was never even a discussion, as far as I remember.

So while my kids may not have an Awesome Spring Break Trip Story to share at morning meeting in class tomorrow, I do think they had a fun week. Nothing but free play time, sleeping in, a little bit later bedtime, movies, library, Mom taking a couple of days off to be home, video games, play date, extra desserts, and computer time. Lots of computer time.

Aren't the little things what's awesome about being a kid, anyway?