When I was a kid in Dalton, Massachusetts, we lived for sledding in the winter. I remember hoping against hope that our friends sons would take us sledding at the golf course on their six foot wooden
toboggan knowing that those trips would mean lots of free rides for me (the littlest one) up the hill as well as down.
When we moved to New Hampshire, the best thing about living there were summers and winters. Summers because my best friend and I would bike between each other's houses and swim the summer away, and winters for ice skating and sledding.
Sledding was great quality in Epsom. There were huge hills where all of the kids would congregate. We would use hard plastic, flexible
flyers and best of all, inner tubes. I sprained many ankles, jammed many fingers but every suicidal run was worth it.
It all came rushing back when Washington got an ice storm last week. Not any ice storm, The World's most perfect ice storm. Ever. There are four inches of solid ice on every outdoor surface and the temperatures have remained cold.
The first morning school was canceled, I went to Target at 9 am. All of the
earlybirds had cleaned out the sled section but that did not deter me. I headed straight for the pool section and grabbed two double chambered, handled inner tubes, took them home and pretended they were a gift for the children.
Now, where to take a four year old and two year old sledding? A parking lot of course, with an evil pitch that was sure to be
unplowed. Forget that there are wooden posts every three feet, worrying about that kind of obstacle is for
amateurs.
The big girl was instantaneously hooked. The little girl feared her parents' reckless abandon a little more openly. We sledded and sledded. It was fantastic.
The next morning, I rustled everyone back into their outdoor clothes (thank you grandma for the
snowpants!) and off we went. The bad news was the ice had hardened even more and shredded both tubes on the first run.
We went shopping and finally tracked down two flexible
flyers and a traditional hard plastic. Definitely not the kamikaze rush of the inner tube, but suitable for our small companions. When we got home, Evie's temperature was almost 102, thereby dashing any sledding hope for that day.
Next day, fever.
Next day, birthday party.
Next day, church & pearl stuff.
Ahhh today. Sleds in hand, everyone headed out to the parking lot. There was a man doing single luge runs that were
olympic quality.
We took the sleds down further, to the point of the wooden posts (lest you think we are irresponsible) and took off on hugely long sled runs. At first we would go the length of the hill plus the length of a soccer field, but by the end it was the hill and the length of two soccer fields.
On the way to the car, Juliette said "That was the best sledding ever." (Which, by the way, it was.) It was a glimpse of what it was like to experience perfection at 4 years old.
Genevieve is, shall we say, an active sleeper. I had a pearl show in Pennsylvania where Bruce and I traded sharing our bed with each daughter.
