Something is fast approaching. It’s the kind of thing that makes kids squeal like it’s Christmas morning, and makes more than a few stay–at–home parents fall to their knees to thank God for pool memberships, PBS kids, and the Wii. It’s summertime, and whether we parents like it or not, it’s coming.

In my home, summertime gives my family the chance to take one big, collective and extremely deep sigh of relief. The frenetic schedule of soccer practices, baseball games, school plays, homework projects, and everything else associated with three very active children comes to a screeching and joyous halt.

There’s no more juggling of schedules for a mom and dad tag–team to make sure this one gets there, that one goes here, and one more makes it to bed on time. There’s no more scrambling for crock pot meals at home or McNuggets on the road. My wife gets to focus on three kids instead of 33 kids, because, as a teacher, she’s out for the summer, too. Her responsibilities shrink from lesson plans, grading papers, and the academic future of a classroom full of second graders to the SPF value of the Coppertone slathered on our kids.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Of course, summertime brings a few challenges with it as well. For one thing, it’s hot …Famously Hot. That means we get the heat and humidity of an equatorial rain forest without the nice cool ocean breeze. I start sweating the moment I step out of the shower and don’t stop until the middle of October.

Summertime also limits my excuse–making ability. Before, I could always blame my honey–do inadequacies on my kids and their schedules. I mean I don’t have time to clean out the garage when my son needs some batting practice before his big game against the Gators. Who can pick weeds or paint a fence when one of my daughters is scoring her first goal? That’s all gone. The only excuses I have now are the heat and biblical size hordes of mosquitoes that always seem to be fasting until I show up in the yard.

Even though these three summer months transform me from chauffer to yard boy, and even if my exposed skin is treated like an all–you–can–eat buffet for the bug world, and even if I look like I’m constantly half–way through a marathon because I’m sweating more than Nixon in a presidential debate, I am so glad these months are finally here.

Sure, there’s always the potential for boredom, but that is something I welcome. My kids may think differently, and my wife may have something to say about it, but I can’t wait until I have absolutely nothing to do. I can’t wait until the hardest part of my day is deciding whether to watch Jeopardy or take a nap.