We climbed into the car. Bruce was killing it on the radio. The leather was so hot it stuck to my skin, and the air conditioner blew at full blast.

“It feels like we’re cheating.” I said to Wyatt.

Because it’s only March. And it feels like July. And I love it. I don’t even mind when I start to sweat and my t-shirt sticks to my back, and Calvin want’s to be carried the entire hike, and the stroller doesn’t push right in the dirt. I don’t mind it when the kids play in the water and ruin their clothes with the moss and mud. I don’t even mind it when three kids whine the whole way home.

Because summer is coming.

This is just a preview.