I get grouchy this time of year. Growing up in London, I was spoiled by the transformation that spring brings to that part of the world. Suddenly the streets are shining in the bright sunlight after months of dismal rain, and the flowers go bonkers. Wisteria, daffodils and other colorful gems sprouting from every stoop and windowsill.

Here in Boston the story is a little different. Cold. Frost till June. A few brave yellow daffodils here and there, but mainly inchworms eating up the leaves that are frantically trying to bud after six months of arctic weather.

The kids go crazy this time of year. Finally they can actually play on the playgrounds, walk the streets without getting frostbite, jump on a trampoline, play their sports outdoors. But here they shiver in their shorts until well into June.

In the summertime, life changes dramatically for both them AND for us. Isn’t it heavenly to get their little paws off those Wii games/ X-Boxes/ remote controls/ mouses and watch them running around, getting out of breath, PLAYING WITH EACH OTHER?

In the summer, there is much less mother guilt. The kids can be independent without being glued to an electronic device.

Interestingly, while we were doing our focus groups out West last year, some mothers complained because the weather is so good the kids never have an excuse to just veg out. Children and parents are supposed to be doing healthy things outdoors 100 % of the time without much room for indoor lazing around. Mothers there said they feel incredibly guilty whenever they hang out indoors.

Hm. They have a point. But, I’ve got to admit, I think I’d prefer that problem…