Simon hates summer vacation.
It’s boiling hot out here.
I swear I saw a bird’s egg boil like the eggs on the counter in Ghostbusters.
Is that a red ant biting my toe?
Damn, it’s hot out here.
At least there’s some shade to sit in.
Wow, it’s sweltering in the shade.
Did I mention it’s fucking hot out here?
Did I bring enough juice and water?
Am I bad mother for sitting here writing while Simon tromps around the playground?
Is that pollen making me sneeze or do I have a cold?
Jesus Christ, it’s like an oven out here.
At least the playground has shade over it so it’s not too bad.
Note to self: headache + hot as Hades in park = worse headache
Where’s iced coffee when I need it?
If I throw away these tissues, will a swarm of wasps come out of the trash bin and chase me?
Nope, it’s too hot for the wasps, too.
The wasps are smarter than me; they’re hiding from the heat.
What are all those weird cocoons on the tree next to me?
Holy hell, they go all the way up and over my head!
What’s going to come out of them?
Maybe I should move.
Oh my god!
What just fell on my paper?
Wait, it was just a leaf.
Wow, he’s climbing up the side of one of the playgrounds! He’s never done that before.
No wonder we’re the only ones here.
Have we been here long enough for me to call it a morning without being a bad mother?
Have we been here too long, and I’m already a bad mother?
Why did I think coming to a park in Texas in August was a good idea?
Why is there summer vacation?
Cicadas! Shut up! You’re not helping my headache!
What? Other people are showing up?
Do they not realize the error of their ways?
Did I mention it’s hot out here?
Okay, he’s turning red.
Time to go home.
Begin my list of the day of things I’m grateful for: air conditioning in the Jeep