The Last Two Weeks of Summer: A Shortlist Worth Doing
There’s a specific kind of panic that sets in around mid-August. You look at the calendar, realize school starts in less than two weeks, and suddenly every grand summer plan you never got around to feels like a personal failure. The beach trip that didn’t happen. The camping weekend that got rained out. The elaborate backyard obstacle course you swore you’d build in June.
Here’s what I’ve learned after years of this particular brand of late-summer guilt: the things to do the last week before school starts don’t need to be elaborate. They don’t need to cost a fortune or require advance reservations. The memories my kids actually bring up in December, the ones they mention to their friends, the ones that make it into their “what I did this summer” assignments are almost always the simple, spontaneous stuff we squeezed in during those final days.
This list isn’t about redemption or making up for lost time. It’s about recognizing that you’ve still got a narrow window to create a few moments worth remembering. Most of these take an evening or less. Most cost almost nothing. And all of them have passed the real test: my kids still talk about them months later.
Backyard Camping (Even If You Never Leave the Yard)
Set up a tent in the backyard. If you don’t have a tent, build a fort with sheets and chairs. Sleep out there, or at least start the night out there before someone inevitably needs to pee and decides the house is more comfortable. The point isn’t wilderness survival. The point is that sleeping outside feels like an adventure when you’re eight, even if you can see your kitchen window from your sleeping bag.
We did this last year on a Tuesday night in August. My sons lasted until about 11 PM before the younger one got spooked by what he swore was a bear but was definitely our neighbor’s cat. We all retreated inside, but for weeks afterward, they told everyone about the night we “camped in the backyard.” They conveniently left out the part where we bailed before midnight.
Bring snacks. Tell ghost stories with a flashlight. Let them stay up past bedtime. According to the National Park Service, camping helps kids develop problem-solving skills and builds confidence, but honestly, the main benefit here is that it feels special without requiring you to drive anywhere or pack the car like you’re fleeing the country.
The Ice Cream Crawl
Pick three ice cream places within reasonable driving distance. Hit all three in one evening. Small sizes only, because you’re going to three places and nobody needs that much dairy. Let each kid choose a different spot, or just pick the three you’ve been meaning to try all summer.
This is one of those things to do the last week before school starts that sounds excessive but ends up being perfect. There’s something about the mission of it, the fact that you’re not just getting ice cream but embarking on an ice cream tour, that elevates the whole experience. My daughter still ranks the places we hit last August. She’s got opinions about waffle cones versus sugar cones that could fill a thesis.
The drive between stops is half the fun. Put on music. Talk about nothing. Let them argue about which place was best. These car conversations, the ones that happen when you’re not trying to have a conversation, are the ones I remember most.
Sunrise Breakfast Somewhere New
Wake up early, I mean really early, and go watch the sunrise from somewhere you don’t normally go. A hilltop. A beach. A parking garage downtown. Bring thermoses of hot chocolate and something simple to eat. Donuts work. Bagels work. You’re not trying to cook a full breakfast at 5:45 AM.
The early wake-up will feel brutal when your alarm goes off, but there’s something about starting the day before the rest of the world that makes kids feel like they’re in on a secret. Plus, you’ll have the place mostly to yourself. No crowds. No lines. Just your family and the quiet before everything starts.
We did this at a lake about twenty minutes from our house. We’d driven past it a hundred times but never stopped. Watching the light come up over the water while my sons threw rocks and my daughter complained about being tired (before admitting it was “actually kind of cool”) is one of those mornings I can still see clearly. The golden hour light that photographers obsess over is real, and it makes even regular moments look like something worth photographing.
Build Something Together
Not a huge project. Not a treehouse or a deck. Something you can finish in an afternoon. A birdhouse. A small bookshelf. A wooden sword. A picture frame. Go to the hardware store together, pick out the materials, and build it in the driveway or garage.
The point isn’t perfection. The point is using tools together, figuring out how things fit, and having something tangible at the end. My wife got each of our kids a basic tool set a few summers ago, and we’ve built some truly questionable items together. A “jewelry box” that doesn’t quite close. A “robot” made from scrap wood that looks more like modern art. A step stool that wobbles but technically works.
They’re all still in the garage. None of them would win any craftsmanship awards. But when friends come over, my kids show them off like they’re museum pieces. There’s something about making something with your hands, especially with your dad, that sticks with kids. For ideas and plans that actually work, I’ve found some solid beginner projects over at our blog, where we’ve covered everything from simple woodworking to backyard projects that don’t require a contractor’s license.
The “Yes Day” Evening
This is a scaled-down version of the full “yes day” concept. From 5 PM until bedtime, the answer is yes to reasonable requests. Yes, we can get fast food for dinner. Yes, you can have dessert first. Yes, we can watch that movie. Yes, you can stay up an extra hour. Yes, we can play that game you’ve been asking about.
Set some basic ground rules (nothing dangerous, nothing that costs more than $50, nothing illegal), but otherwise, let them drive the evening. It’s remarkable how much joy comes from just removing the usual friction. No negotiations. No “maybe later.” Just yes.
Last year, my kids chose McDonald’s (even though we live two blocks from better options), wanted to eat it at the park, then asked to go to the convenience store for candy, then wanted to play flashlight tag in the backyard until way past bedtime. It cost maybe thirty bucks total and ranks as one of their favorite nights of the summer. Sometimes the best things to do the last week before school starts are just the normal things with the rules temporarily suspended.
Night Swimming
If you have access to a pool, go swimming after dark. If you don’t have a pool, find a friend who does, or check if your local pool has evening hours. There’s something about swimming at night that feels completely different from daytime swimming. The water feels warmer. The sounds are different. The whole vibe shifts.
Bring glow sticks and toss them in the pool. Bring waterproof speakers and play music. Let them swim until their fingers prune. The lack of sun means you’re not constantly reapplying sunscreen or watching the clock. It’s just swimming for the sake of swimming, in the dark, which somehow makes it an adventure instead of just exercise.
Make a Time Capsule
Get a waterproof container (a plastic bin with a good seal works fine). Have each kid contribute items from the summer: a photo, a drawing, a small toy, a note about what they did, what they liked, what they want to remember. Add a newspaper from that day. Include a family photo. Write down everyone’s height and favorite things.
Bury it in the backyard or hide it in the attic or garage. Set a date to open it. One year from now. Five years. When the youngest graduates high school. The specific timeline matters less than the act of documenting this moment and knowing you’ll revisit it together.
We made one three summers ago and dug it up last month. My daughter’s note said her favorite food was “mac and cheese with the shapes.” My older son had included a small plastic dinosaur he’d completely forgotten about. My younger son’s drawing of our family looked like a crime scene sketch. We spent an hour reading through everything, laughing at how much had changed and how much hadn’t. For supplies and ideas on making this more elaborate, check out our shop, where we’ve curated gear and tools for family projects like this.
Visit Somewhere Local You’ve Never Been
Every town has places that locals never actually visit. The historical society. The small museum downtown. The nature center. The observation deck. The old cemetery. The botanical garden. Pick one and go, even if it seems boring or touristy.
We live near a small aviation museum that we’d driven past for years. Finally went last August because we had an afternoon to kill and everything else was crowded. Turns out my sons are obsessed with old planes. Who knew? We spent two hours there. It cost twelve dollars for the whole family. They still talk about the cockpit they got to sit in.
The point is to be a tourist in your own town. See something new. Learn something random. Break the routine of going to the same parks and restaurants you always go to. These local adventures often become the things to do the last week before school starts that surprise you with how much everyone enjoys them.
Outdoor Movie Night
Hang a white sheet in the backyard. Borrow or rent a projector (you can get a decent one for under $100, or ask around because someone you know definitely has one). Make popcorn. Bring out blankets and pillows. Watch a movie outside.
It doesn’t have to be a new movie. In fact, rewatching a favorite is often better because kids can quote along and aren’t stressed about following a new plot. The novelty is the setting, not the content. We’ve watched “The Sandlot” in our backyard three summers in a row. Still works every time.
Invite neighbors if you want, or keep it just family. Either way, there’s something about watching a screen under the stars that makes a regular movie night feel like an event. Plus, if the kids fall asleep outside, you can just carry them in. No need to pause and negotiate bedtime.
The Photo Scavenger Hunt
Make a list of things to photograph: something red, something that makes you laugh, something old, something new, a shadow, a reflection, a stranger’s dog (with permission), your family making silly faces, the sunset, something beautiful, something weird.
Give each kid a camera or phone. Set a time limit (an hour works well). Go to a park or downtown or just around your neighborhood. Everyone tries to find and photograph everything on the list. Regroup at the end and look through the photos together.
This works because it turns a regular walk into a mission. Kids notice things they’d normally ignore. They get creative with interpretations. My daughter once photographed a parking meter for “something old,” which sparked a whole conversation about how parking meters work and why we don’t use them in our town. Not exactly the deep summer bonding I’d planned, but it was real and memorable.
Cook Their Favorite Meal Together
Not your favorite meal. Theirs. Even if it’s chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. Even if it’s breakfast for dinner. Even if it’s something you’d never normally make. Let them help with every step they’re capable of helping with. Stirring. Measuring. Cracking eggs (and picking out the shells). Setting the table.
The cooking matters less than the collaboration. My younger son’s favorite meal is spaghetti with butter and parmesan (no sauce, which I find personally offensive, but it’s his choice). We made it together on a random Tuesday in August. He stood on a stool and stirred the pasta. He grated the cheese. He insisted on using the “fancy plates” we save for holidays. We ate it at the kitchen counter instead of the dining table because he wanted to “eat like we’re at a restaurant.”
It was the simplest meal imaginable, but he felt like he’d created something. That ownership, that pride in making something yourself, is worth more than any elaborate dinner I could’ve cooked for him.
Write Letters to Their Future Selves
Give each kid paper and envelopes. Have them write a letter to themselves one year from now. What do they hope happens this school year? What are they excited about? What are they nervous about? What do they want to remember about this summer?
Seal the letters. Write the date to open them on the outside. Put them somewhere safe. Next August, right before school starts again, open them together and read what they wrote. Then write new ones.
My daughter wrote one last year that said she hoped she’d make the soccer team and learn to do a cartwheel. She made the team. Still working on the cartwheel. But reading her hopes from a year ago and seeing which ones came true and which ones didn’t sparked a conversation about goals and effort and luck that I couldn’t have planned if I’d tried.
These letters become artifacts. Evidence of who they were at this exact moment, written in their own words, preserved for later. They’re better than photos because they capture not just how they looked but how they thought.
The Last Hurrah
Here’s the thing about trying to pack in things to do the last week before school starts: you’ll run out of time. You won’t do everything on this list. You might not do half of it. That’s fine. The point isn’t to execute a perfect end-of-summer itinerary. The point is to recognize that you’ve still got a little time left and to use some of it intentionally.
Pick two or three items from this list. Do them this week. Don’t overthink it. Don’t wait for the perfect evening or the perfect weather. Just do them. The kids won’t remember that it was too hot or that you forgot the bug spray or that the ice cream melted before you got home. They’ll remember that you did something together, something a little different, something that marked the end of summer as special instead of just letting it fade into the school year.
The best things to do the last week before school starts are rarely the expensive trips or the elaborate plans. They’re the spontaneous decisions to stay up late, to try something new, to say yes when you’d normally say no, to create a small moment that feels bigger than it actually is. Those are the ones that stick. Those are the ones they bring up in December when summer feels like a lifetime ago.
You’ve got about two weeks. Use them. Not all of them, because you’ve also got back-to-school shopping and schedule adjustments and the low-level anxiety that comes with any transition. But use some of them. Make a few memories. Give them something to talk about when their teacher asks what they did this summer.
And if you’re looking for more ideas on making the most of family time, whether it’s the end of summer or the middle of winter, head over to our blog for more practical suggestions that actually work in real life with real kids. Because the truth is, these moments don’t require perfection. They just require showing up and trying, which is something you’re already doing. You’ve got this.
