7 Fun summer activities to do with your kids

1 Play a game of hide and don’t seek.

Though long disparaged as the lesser cousin of hide and go seek, hide and don’t seek can be one of the most fun activities you could possibly do with your children over the summer. In this old classic you drop them off at your in-law’s house and then get on a plane and fly to an exotic locale to drink daiquiris and step into a turquoise ocean, the sort where you dip your toes in and say, “I didn’t know the ocean could be this warm,” before falling asleep while reading something by one of the prominent Victorians.

If you really feel the need to include them in your activities it’s probably best to take pictures. After you return, load up the computer with photos and stream it to the television. Your children will love watching all of the wonderful things that you did while you were away. “This is mommy sleeping in a chair.” “This is mommy drunk at noon on a Tuesday.” “This is a picture of me snorkeling.”

2. Fly a kite

Wake up early on a Saturday morning, get the kids hiking shoes on and sun hats for a riotous day of flying a kite. Drive outside of the city, pull over when you reach a large clearing, the type which buffalo probably would have claimed if they hadn’t all been killed off and let your kite go, watch it soar like an eagle, the string playing out gently from your child’s nimble fingers. If only Icarus could see you.

I’m kidding. Have you ever flown a kite? It takes about half an hour to construct the thing and about ten minutes to have it torn to shreds by a combination of recalcitrant winds, low lying branches, and frustrated children who were confused and though that “flying” a kite actually meant that it would fly. “No dear. Flying a kite involves watching it soar about four feet off the ground for a moment before it nose dives into the unforgiving turf , breaking some essential piece of piping before finally showing that gusto that you’d been wanting from it in the air as it slips through your fingers and scuttles across the ground like a piece of Texas tumbleweed.

3. Take them to Disneyland or Disneyworld.

 It’s this incredible place where they help children’s dreams come true. If that seems too abstract, I’ll put it in more concrete terms: you get to watch a real life performance of Beauty and the Beast with a 19 year old that you kind of fall in love with, even though you’re eight and weren’t sure you liked singing until that day. Theoretically. They also have princesses walking around in full regalia and rides that perfectly simulate the experience of being a live Disney character like that tiny roller coaster that simulated the experience of the Smurfs that was the only roller coaster that you were willing to go on because heights, moving fast, and pretty much everything else terrifies you. Theoretically.

Wait. Stop the presses! I’ve been told that other people know about these Magic Kingdoms as well. So apparently you won’t be spending a few magical days experiencing the world as if it were a fairy tale, rather, you’ll be standing in excruciatingly long lines with impatient children. It will be overly sweaty underpants hot and because everyone else knows about this place as well it will cost a thousand dollars, and you’ll understand, at least in part, why Adam and Eve were in Paradise. There were only two of them.

4. A beach weekend!

Beach weekends are the best! Small children, the large unforgiving ocean, piles and piles of sand that end up in your car for months even after you spend a solid twenty minutes doing that thing with a towel to kid’s feet where you kind of burn the sand off with the friction you’re creating, because parents, but especially dads, really loathe all that gd sand on their new or old upholstery.

I jest. The beach is the best because the crashing waves can obscure the sounds of unhappiness that are emanating from your children. “What’s that honey? I can’t quite hear you. I’ll read this article in Harper’s more to see if it has the answer to your question.”

Besides which, you get the unalloyed pleasure of applying sunscreen to children. This would be entirely fine except they tend to treat the whole affair as if you were applying battery acid to them instead with much needless wailing and gnashing of teeth while you keep asking yourself why you ever think it’s a good idea to leave your living room.

But then, at some point, they’ll be playing by the water, their laughter floating by on a gentle ocean breeze—your eyes, mere slits, the sea gulls are crying in the wide net of sky and for a moment, maybe two, you’ll find contentment.

5. Road trip!

What could possibly be better than the open road? The miles and miles of sun scorched highway stretching out before you like some ungodly snake—oaks, maples, scrub brush, stands of Eucalyptus giving way to evergreens, white pines and conifers sprouting up on the backs of low lying mountains. And think of how excited your children will be to be taking part in this experience with you. I’d suggest bringing a copy of Kerouac or McCarthy, either version of being on the Road will do. It will touch them to see how much time and effort you’ve put into this endeavor, how you’ve mapped everything out to maximize the trip, see every last sight, stop at caverns of limestone, roadside stands where they sell the world’s best hot dogs, stay in a hotel with a hot tub. Of course they will! This is going to be the best trip since Herodotus went across Northern Africa.

Or will it? You can pre-construct a sign that says, “I don’t care who pinched who first, I’d just like it to stop.” Or, “I will pull this car over if you don’t stop whining. You think I won’t do it. I’ll do it. I’ll drive this car right off this bridge.” And so on. When you’re at the Grand Canyon, prepare for a letdown. “It’s just a big hole.”

6. Take them to a ballet class

Every child loves the movie “Black Swan,” where the ballerina is slowly driven insane, creates a double of herself and eventually winds up dead after dancing like she’s never danced before. What little girl or boy couldn’t get excited by that promise. Most children are, at heart, artists. They understand that it is better to have burned brightly across the sky than to sit like a bulb in a front porch light, waiting to go dim. And that’s why they love ballet.

Mind you, I’ve never been to ballet class, but I assume it’s just a bunch of happy little girls jumping around in skirts and boys in tights thinking they are Peter Pan. What better time to be an insane princess or a child who doesn’t ever want to grow up? Who hasn’t, after their youth has passed, sat on the front steps—in the late summer light, listening to the whir of cicadas and the trilling of sparrows and starlings, and thought how wonderful it would be to have remained a summer child forever, wrapped up in one’s imagination and the endless months to come.

7. Comfort them

After a long day of working and commuting walk upstairs to comfort your crying child. When you pull him out of the crib, his curly reddish hair will be matted to his head. Briefly lay him down to take off his shirt. In the sliver of light coming from the hallway find your way into the rocking chair. Sit in the dark, while his breathing slowly calms through hiccups, rocking until he is quiet. Then move quickly to the crib to put him down. As you do so, he’ll begin to cry. Lie down on your back next to his crib in the middle of the hardwood floor, reach your hand through the slats of his crib and rub his belly with the palm of your hand, say, “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay. I’m here,” until he quiets.

When you pull your hand away and try and leave he’ll roll to the side of his crib and look through the slats with his small, intelligent eyes. “Hi,” he’ll say. And you’ll reach your hand back through the slats and rub his forehead while he starts to drift off to sleep. Eventually, your hand will slip away as you yourself, exhausted from the day, drift off to sleep in the middle of the floor. Above you, he’ll be standing now in his crib, saying, “Hi. Hi,” at your prone form on the floor.

Twenty minutes later when you awaken to a pain in the center of your back that is nothing more than the hard floor rising up to meet you he’ll still be chattering to himself, happily though, and you’ll slip out the door and into the remains of an evening already half-spent, drowsy and confused, happy to have calmed, if only for one night, the pains of a child.