I running!

February was kind of rough; snow and cold and all that. Oh sure it was fun making snowmen and such, but you know.

Today, the first Friday home with the kids in March, was nice. Not exactly warm, but sunny and clear, so we got into clothes -- I admit, there are Fridays we stay in pajamas, not often but it happens -- bundled up, and went out in the backyard. Brought a couple of footballs, too.

For a little while, we just walked around. They climbed up on the little play slide and swing, which they hadn't seen all winter. Poked around the empty flower pots. Walked along the fence. Got used to the feel of grass under our feet; a week earlier, there'd been snow and lots of it.

Jack and I threw one football around. He almost brained Kate with it at one point, but fortunately didn't. I tossed them underhand, he caught some. He threw with all his might, one or two were in my vicinity. Go long! he yelled. Throw it, I said, I'm far enough away.

Kate picked up her smaller football, made as if to throw it, but instead ran up to me and put it in my hands. Then demanded it back.

At some point, the footballs were put aside in favor of running. Racing. We all lined up on the edge of the grass and ran. Jack ran full tilt, easily outdistancing us. I ran a step slower than Kate, which is to say running a step, stopping, running a step, stopping, waiting while she picked herself up from her knees, running a step, stopping. Jack won easily. Kate and I continued running in stride. She fell on her knees for the final time near the finish line, at which point I stopped, augh, you got me, Kate. She laughed. She laughed as she ran, laughed as she fell, laughed as she got up and laughed as she ran. Jack laughed triumphantly as he finished minutes before we did.

Later that evening, eating pizza, Emily asked about it, said to Jack she heard we raced. Did you win, she said. Jack said, Yeah, I ran like this. And he showed his fast run. And then: Daddy ran like this. And he did a slow-motion, Six Million Dollar Man run that cracked us up. Daddy always runs in slow motion, he said. Then he did Kate's run, waving his arms and legs in a herky-jerky style that cracked us up all over again.

Kate apparently wanted to clarify that she could, in fact, run. She ran into the living room. Yook, Daddy! she said. Yook! I running! I running! As she ran, she turned to look over her shoulder, making sure I was watching. I running!