ingrid

Kids are smarter than us.  Or at least, they tend to think about the world in a more productive way than we do sometimes.

Take a couple of  weekends ago for example.  We went up to Mt Hood with my bro-in-law and our two darling nephews.  The idea was to drive up there, park somewhere off to the side of the mountain and then hike in to a secret sledding hill attached to an outdoor club cabin.  All right!  Set!  We drove, we fully outfitted all children in their very fine ski gear including my son in his PINK snowsuit— hey, it was $7 at Fred Meyer out of season.  (The only other ones they had were camouflage and I don’t consider war costumes much of a fashion choice for my children).  ANYWAY, off we go to the snow.  The kids love the parking lot, but that isn’t good enough for us adults.

Oh no, now that we have made it to the snow, we have to hike in to MORE snow.

The problem is, when we get to more snow, there is really, really MORE snow.  There is actually so much snow that you can’t really move in it.  There is so much snow that the sleds don’t slide much.  There is so much snow that you sink in up to your hip— your adult hip, which is just worse when carrying a kid.

We try to pound the snow down so that we don’t completely sink, and eat a quick lunch in the snow.  It is cold.  The kiddos decide to play in this little downhill area, but I have my eye on a huge hill.  Wouldn’t it be great to make a really long sled run?  The problem is that it is nearly impossible to move through there.  It is exhausting to try, but off I go.

I work and work and work.  I hum that song about John Henry, and that is how I feel as I pound with my arms and try not to fall in.  I am exhausted, but I keep pounding and clearing.  This’ll be fun!  They’ll love it, I think.  My arms ache, but finally I make a 30 yard run.  And then… no one wants to go down it.  The kids are cold.  They don’t want to go through the snow to get to my run.  They don’t want to fall off the side of the pounded down snow and get buried to their necks.  It is too hard to get up the hill.  Zephyr starts crying, “I don’t like this place!  I want to go home!”.  The other kids are happily playing on a 15 ft slick area just yards away from the cabin.

Sigh…. I hope someone comes along and uses my great run.  I really broke ground for them, ground that some other kids will surely appreciate.  It wasn’t entirely fruitless, right?

In: Current musings, on the road again | | #