K informs me that I work probably fifty to sixty hours a week during the school year. Grading, planning, grading, planning in the evenings, on the weekends, in the evenings, on the weekends. It adds up, she tells me. I never keep track, but I’ll go with her assessment. That’s why, when summer break comes around, it’s an absolute relief, at least for the first couple of weeks.

And it allows me to do things like cleaning up a trampoline we got for free from a family whose boys have long outgrown it and doing it in the early afternoon of a Tuesday.

Which is also good, because as L helps, she gets tired, which bodes well for a restful night’s sleep.

So we all get breaks.