What does summer mean to you?

When I was a kid, most of my summers were spent chillin' at my mom's house watching taped episodes of "The Simpson's" and making Popsicle runs down to Hansen's, a dusty old mom and pop's general store lost in the blazing-hot haze that is the pillar of my childhood memories of Fresno. My sisters and I would cut models, clothes, furniture, and rooms out of the old Sears and JC Penny's catalogs and make doll houses that we would tape together and then pin to the walls of our rooms with thumb tacks. We would turn on the hose and run around outside in the sun, and put lemon juice in our hair to bleach sunny colored streaks into our manes. We would paint our nails and toes in outrageous colors and designs, and sew Barbie clothes out of the scraps from my older sister's prom dresses. When we got older, we would play poker using bean soup mix for chips and give each other haircuts and makeovers.
I didn't realize that we were lacking in material wealth, because to me I had everything in the world.
This is the first summer since before he was in Kindergarten that I've had the boy during the summer. His mom usually packs him off to NYC to chill in his grandma's apartment in the Bronx. He baits her rat traps, plays in the fire hydrants outside, stays up until 2 in the morning watching cartoons, eats a lot of Chinese take out and arroz con pollo, and on weekends they take trips to Central Park or the beach. Last summer he came home with a garbage sack full of shells he'd found on some Atlantic strip of sand while clamming with his Dominican Abuelita, whom he claims boils water and cooks the clams right there on the beach.
This summer Abuelita Germania is working. That means I have the distinct privilege and blessing of being a full time summer parent. And let me tell you... IT. IS. AWESOME!!!
We spend our days sleeping in, making pancakes that fill our tummies to bursting, riding our bikes down to the river and playing on the swing hanging from the ancient oak trees on its banks; finding sticks and racing them under bridges; eating Hawaiian shaved ices that melt in the sun and stain our shirts and hands with sticky goodness. We have been extremely privileged to share our adventures with my sister Sara and her kids, who came over to help us paint last week, and with "the primos," the children of Luis's cousin Roger. Today Andrei and the primos are clearing the cobwebs, dust, and grime out of our old tree house and turning it in to a club house, which is sure to be the home for the rest of the summer to board games, Popsicles, finger painted walls, secrets, sleep overs, fart jokes, and childhood dreams.
In my imagination, heaven is just a big long summer break, club house included.
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What are your most cherished summer memories, as a parent, honorary summer parent, or child?