School's out, get ready for some scratchin'

THE LAST day of school meant something different for everyone in my home.

For my 8-year-old, Little Solomon, the end of school meant freedom from the tyranny of homework, bedtime and sitting still in math class.

For my 11-year-old daughter, Eve, president of her fifth-grade class and co-founder of their Justin Bieber fan club, the end of school meant joining her female classmates for a good cry. And though a male student helpfully pointed out that they'd be apart for only three months, the Beliebers ignored his boyish naiveté and continued crying while Justin sang a sufficiently sappy song in the background.

For my wife, LaVeta, the end of the school year meant a respite from lunch-making, homework-helping, uniform-ironing and nose-wiping. But, as a mom, the end of the school year brought more than a welcome rest. It also included a sense of melancholy, because with each passing year, her babies grow up a little more.

Me? I'm a dad, so I'm glad they're getting big, because every year brings the little buggers closer to getting jobs. When that happens, cue the "Hallelujah Chorus." Not only will I have two nickels to rub together, my kids will be preparing to leave. That means I can turn their rooms into multimedia centers, complete with big-screen TVs and huge signs that say, "You ain't gotta go home, but you gotta get the heck outta here."

Don't get me wrong. I love my babies. But I won't be cryin' no stinkin' tears for the end of the school year. In fact, I'm doing my happy dance even as I write this, because the end of school means just one thing for me: I can finally sleep.

No more getting up at the crack of dawn to fulfill my chauffeur duties. No more bat-out-of-hell journeys to get Eve to school on time. No more denying myself the raunchiness of R&B morning-radio shows. No more staying up late to help with last-minute school projects.

I'm a free man for the next three months, and doggone it, some things are gonna change around here. This summer, I'm getting back to basics:

Scratching. For the first week or so, my body will still be trained to wake up at 6 a.m., so, while my children are asleep I'm going to wake up and do man stuff. For those of you who don't know what that entails, I will be donning a wifebeater - preferably a dirty one - and sitting on my couch watching reruns of every available sporting event.

I will yell while doing so, and, since I don't drink alcohol, I will imbibe the next unhealthiest thing I can find. That's right. I will drink soda. I will drink so much soda, in fact, that I will start itching. And then I will do what every man does when he sits on his couch. I will scratch till I can't scratch no more.

Adult programming. In our house, there are certain things we just don't want our children to see, and, increasingly, that includes commercials, certain reality shows, even "The Simpsons." But, with the kids out of school and spending their evenings playing outside, I can watch every dirty commercial I want. I can throw on a "Simpsons" marathon. I can turn off the Disney Channel, turn on The Learning Channel (who knew that was TLC's full name?) and watch every raunchy reality show I can find. And when I finish, I can watch them again . . . while scratching.

Action movies. During the school year, it's pretty much impossible to get to the movies. If I do, the family's in tow, and that's cool. But that means the craziest action scene I've watched lately involved the Leafmen fighting the rot dudes in "Epic." Oh you missed that one? I didn't. In fact, I haven't missed a children's movie in the last decade. But I've missed all the action flicks. So, this summer, I'm going to go to the dollar store, buy some candy, sneak it into the movies (I'm sorry, I can't pay $5 for a $1 box of Milk Duds - don't judge me), and I'm gonna watch me some blood and gore.

In fact, if the movie's good enough, I might just combine all my summer man stuff. I'll wear a wifebeater and drink soda, I'll watch my fellow moviegoers as if they're a reality show, and when the lights dim and I get that soda itch, I might even scratch a little.