Whenever I have writer’s block, which is quite often, I have one surefire fix: Disney’s hit animated series Phineas and Ferb.

For those who do not know, the comedic cartoon focuses on the impossible antics and inventions of two inconceivably intelligent siblings, as well as their nosy older sister and crime-fighting pet platypus, as they try to make the most of all 104 days of summer vacation. Something about the outlandishly creative episodes never fails to pull me out of my slump—or at least lighten the mood as I work through whatever I am working on. From city-wide rollercoasters to making ice cream on the moon, the storylines are a delightful reminder that anything is possible, at least in the world of animation.

When I was a kid, I remember that feeling of unlimited possibilities at the start of summer. No school. No homework. Just time to do, well, anything.

My sister and I would make music videos, concoct elaborate plans and execute things we believed, at the time, to be quite spectacular. We didn’t come close to establishing any mind-bending feats of physics like Phineas and Ferb, but it felt impressive in its context.

The most impressive achievements, though, were those executed during our regular stints in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Every summer, we would haul our brightly colored trunks of Nike shorts and ridiculous costumes to Camp Kahdalea for a month of endless excitement. Canoeing. Hiking. Rock climbing. It was all on the schedule. But what I remember most fondly are the elaborately themed evening and weekend events set up by counselors who seemed wise beyond their years.

Those 18 to 20-something-year-olds created immersive experiences, the details of which were only made grander by my young age. Day-long competitions. Pirate-themed capture the flag. Carnival-esque dining experiences. The most impressive part, in hindsight, is the resources they had at their disposal. Old sheets. Spare paint. Crowd-sourced costumes. These kids made it happen.

As an adult, summer comes with less of a bang. There’s no grand moment of freedom. The grind of work and life continues all the same. One thing does change, though, and that’s the pressure to create a magical summer for yourself and, if you are a parent, your kids.

While I don’t suggest endeavoring towards space travel, I do think there is inspiration to be drawn from the antics of Phineas and Ferb. Something about the animated siblings is that they rarely leave their backyard. They create with the resources that are readily available around them—albeit those seem quite endless, but still.

I am working hard to remember this as I work to make some magic for my kids this summer. Cardboard boxes? I see a town complete with an Eiffel Tower-esque monument. Rainy afternoon? More like a chance for an intergalactic experience inside our house’s darkest bedroom.

If you get activity block—it’s like writer’s block, but even more frustrating—this summer, flip on your favorite animated show and let your imagination take hold. There’s only 104 days—according to Phineas and Ferb—so make them count.

Looking forward,

Riley Bienvenu Bourgeois

Editor