I cringed when my kids ran up to a family of strangers on the beach the other day, asking if they wanted to see their bucket full of hermit crabs. Then the dad coughed, basically right on them, while I watched from across the sand, horrified.
“But we don’t have to social distance anymore?” they argued when I called them over and told them, in no uncertain terms, not to run up to strangers and be coughed on.
“Oh yes, you do still have to social distance!”
I keep telling them that, but it’s not easy to explain the vague, ever-changing rules of the moment — that it’s OK for people to hug when it’s a group of 10, but not 11. That the group of 10 should be exclusive if possible, but it’s not mandatory. That crowds of up to 50 are OK, but you have to social distance. That there are no bubbles anymore, but if you’re already in a group of 10 and your former bubble arrives on the scene, then … oh, I don’t even know.
We’re basically in a holding pattern this summer. We’re not as restricted as we were for nearly three long months, but we’re also not back in “real life.” Everything is different … and weird.