This has me mildly panicked because I have a child in school. This means that in two short weeks, my child will be at home with me for 24 hours a day, and my beautiful 6 hours of peace and solitude in which I write will be a thing of the past.

And I still have to finish a book.

Part of me wonders how the teachers are faring. They’ve had our little angels for the last ten months, and they’re probably running on fumes about now. I imagine they army crawl to their cars at the end of the day, and when the last day of school finally comes, they’ll toss our little angels back at us and then go weep quietly in exhaustion.

That’s when we get to have our summer fun, which I’m looking forward to, except that writing with my 7 year old around is incredibly difficult. And like I said, I still have to finish a book.

Gone are the days of tapping and pestering for snacks. Now, he wants to discuss the feasibility of “inventing” his own space helmet, or he’ll ask why his friends’ parents got divorced. (Answer THAT quickly, then get back to work. I dare you!) Plus, it’s the summer, and I’d much rather eat popsicles with my son and call my husband at work just to say hi… Who could blame me? Besides, I really miss them when they aren’t around.

So my peaceful quiet is nearing an end, and while I’m looking forward to parks and playdates with friends, and while I’m looking forward to walking to the library with my son, answering his increasingly in depth questions about life and relishing family weekends when my husband is home from work, I’m still a little worried because

I still have to finish a book.

Wish me luck!