We have memberships to a local pool, a kickass zoo, a gorgeous arboretum complete with children's garden and we live a stone's throw from a million other child friendly venues. Nary a week goes by without play dates, outings, bike rides and hikes. They have grandparents that heap toys upon them in such large quantities it's as if they are trying to bribe corrupt city officials. So bored?
(This is the part where I sound like a crabby old man) Remember when we were little? I got shuffled out the door with a PB&J wrapped in tinfoil and a ding dong and was told to return when the sun set. Need a drink? Find a hose.
We came up with the most amazing shit to do too. We ground up berries, mixed them with water and tricked the mean kids into thinking it was Koolaid. We peed, or watched other people pee, inside the giant metal clown at the playground, laughing at the thunderous noise we produced. We jumped into dumpsters and rescued china Jesus dolls to bring home as souvenirs. We held on for our dear lives as the big kids spun on us on the merry go rounds. We burned our asses trying to go down the hot metal slides with no underpants. Cruised the Bookmobile and played fast and loose chasing the ice cream truck in the street.
We were sunburned, dirty and lucky to be alive. But we lived baby. And we were not bored.
But I smiled and nodded as this counselor person suggested that I do structured crafts first thing in the morning. That I set up a chart so that they knew what their routine was every, single day. Then I went home, tossed some ding dongs at the kids and sent them outside to play. You're welcome childhood. You are welcome.