Yesterday Madison got a little snow. A few inches of fluffy powder. You know the kind of snow I am talking about, the pretty stuff. The snow that makes a person want to play outside. So that’s what we did.
Sunny and I loaded up the minivan with a myriad of sleds: saucers, toboggans, little rolled sleds, even a snowboard. We dressed ourselves for the occasion. Sunny, predictably, wore many shades of pink. I went outside the black box and wore some of Dave’s camouflage gortex hunting gear(hey, it’s warm and lightweight). A sight to behold.
We met the boys just after the dismissal bell rang. There happens to be a great sledding hill just off school property, and incredibly, the community we live in closes the road in front of that hill during the winter so people can sled with abandon. What a gift. (is it any wonder that I love Madison?).
For the next hour, we were down, and back up, that hill. Snow in our faces, down our necks, in our mittens and boots. Noses running, that cold, relentless nose running that comes with being outside just a bit longer than practical. Kids making trains with their sleds, trying to run down the other kids walking back up the hill.
It was all so unsafe, and so uncontrolled, and so wonderful.
I was loving it. And I am afraid it showed. At one point a 5th grade boy turned to me and said, incredulously, “you”re Kjell’s MOM?” I admitted to that. He responded, “Wow, a parent who likes to have fun!”
Perhaps the highest compliment I have ever received.
My prayer is that I am never so grown up that I can’t enjoy a fast run down a steep hill.