Sledding

Broke out the "snow tube" today, an inner tube-like sled that Jack got from a friend for his birthday. Interestingly, when I was a kid we actually slid on inner tubes! Which was much better than the red metal saucer sled that Amos once slid into me on and broke my collarbone. I told Jack he could use his new sled and he was pretty excited about it.

We bundled up in our layers -- I went upstairs to get socks and when I came down Jack was completely dressed in snowpants, boots, jacket, hat and gloves, the fastest by far that he's ever suited up -- and headed off. We walked the two blocks through snow-lined streets, thanks to three storms in the last two weeks, and arrived.

I never know for sure with Jack, if he'll be really into something with an element of thrill and danger to it, or scared. Much to my relief, he was completely into it. He climbed in, held the handles, and slid spinning down the hill, me watching with trepidation, hopeful it didn't capsize and send him careening down the hill on his face. It didn't. As he went down, I could hear him yelling, and at the bottom, laughing, great peals of giggling, happy laughter. I slid clunkily down after him on this blue sled I'd bought last winter in February, after what I think was one of the few snowstorms we had.

We went down one hill a few times, and I pointed out a higher one across the ballfield. Again, not sure if he'd be into the idea. He was. I guess, he's 6 now. One brief negative moment when he slid pretty fast and hit a chain link fence, and cried, but I talked him down, and then he was ready for more. He stood up, set his lip, and hiked up the hill again. "Let's race, Daddy."