On day three, the dynamic changed when the oldest decided he didn’t want to participate in the herd anymore. He’s practically a teen, you see. The herd dynamic changed and new alliances formed and feelings got hurt when one was left out. They were tired and worn out from hours in the hot sun, turning pink, their feet bleeding from rough surfaces, soldiering on so the fun wouldn’t end.
Day four, the oldest opted out again but the herd adjusted. He was missed but no longer crucial to the functioning of the herd.
And then it was over. Half of the herd left and the dynamic is fated to change again. Seven became four. The teenager wants nothing to do with his sister. The adults are busy with work. Order is restored and fun is left to each own’s devices (generally, electronic these days). Boredom and frustration set in. Adults check their watches frequently, wondering when they get their lives back. Tick, tock - don’t tease your sister!
We’ll probably go to the pool again, risking skin cancer and permanent damage to the soles of their feet in the hope there will be other kids there who can join our herd. Until 27 days from now, the youngest of our herd predicted, when they will flock back. For a week, he says.
Sounds good to me.
(How about Labor Day weekend?)
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