When I was a kid, summer vacation seemed to last a really long time. Now I see it pulling away from me like the ice cream truck in a summer nightmare, leaving me tasting the exhaust instead of a fudgsicle.
Most of the problem is Emma. I think I shall have to auction her off to someone who has a lot more time to spend on her divers pursuits than I. And now she wants to do Scottish Country Dancing. She told me today that if she could just go to Irish dancing on Monday nights, English Country Dancing on the 1st and 3rd Fridays, contra dancing on the second and fourth Saturdays and the Scottish Dancing on whatever free night is left, she thinks that she could give up ballet.
Maybe she'll meet some rich, eligible bachelor at one of these dances. She has a thing for men in kilts. Hey, wait a minute! Where is that next Scottish Country Dance?