Didn’t the word “summer” used to equal a full three months? Back in the ‘80s we got out around the second week of June and didn’t return until after Labor Day. Twelve weeks of barefoot, late night, ice cream, swim lesson, little-bit-naughty, sun-screen, creek walk, watermelon-flavored Jolly Rancher stick bliss. I know some U.S. districts still follow such plans, but down here in Baja school’s only out for six weeks—and we thought that was bad. But on July 4 (God bless America) our oldest graduated from a public middle school and on August 1 he started orientation at a private high school. Sunny vacations go by ridiculously fast when you…