Last spring, Moe and a couple of other seventh grade boys built a robot at school. The kids were supposed to design a machine that would operate in the water, like a boat, and that they could steer and make it submerge itself and resurface, like a submarine. On the last day of school, Moe brought it home, and of course he wanted to test it in the lake behind our house.
When the cord became snagged on a log, trapping the robot underwater, there was a moment of panic when the boys tried to figure out how to retrieve it. (Mind you, this lake is deep and full of snapping turtles, and I have no way to know how clean the water is. We don’t swim in it.) The next thing I know, Curly has stripped off most of his clothes, and he’s in the lake. I’m yelling for him to get out of there NOW, and he’s saying, “Don’t worry, Mom, it’s FINE!” (He’s fifteen. He knows everything.)
To make a long story short, they managed to retrieve the robot, but had to cut the cord in the process. That’s that, and although they discussed how to repair the wire and make it waterproof, they never did.
That was the last day of school. The whole summer was ahead of us. Now the summer is rapidly approaching its end; and although I’m not in panic mode yet, it’s only a matter of days (maybe hours) until I reach that point. Today we start looking at school supply lists and begin our inventory of what we have and what we need to buy. I have MUCH to do to prepare for the new year at preschool.
I’ll try not to panic.
Check out Clan Donaldson for more moments of panic.