Sleds Away!

As if Christmas weren't dramatic enough in my household, last week's agenda was cut short by Joel taking a turn at our family's stomach flu epidemic while I suffered from a nearly hallucinogenic migraine headache.  And because that was not quite exciting enough, our neighborhood was blanketed in a thick layer of ice on Thursday, and on Saturday night, several inches of snow.

While our winter wonderland is very pretty and a nice reassurance of a white Christmas, it has made traveling difficult, and we've been forced to find entertainment closer to home.  And what better entertainment is there on a snowy day than sledding?

With two small children and one pregnant woman, there are probably better, safer choices.  But this isn't a story about being responsible.  This is a story about a black diamond-grade sledding hill, and how we put our kids on slippery surfaces and sent them careening toward the bottom.

Joel had heard about a particular hill known for very fast and steep sledding passes, so we drove (slowly) across our little town to ride the hill.  I even thought that, provided there was no risk of running into anyone, I might be able to take a turn myself.  But as soon as I stood at the top and felt as though I couldn't see the bottom for the clouds at my feet, I knew it wouldn't be an option for me.  But for my innocent children and fearless husband?  Bring it on!

Joel rode with Graham for the first pass, because our littlest wanted to go but was afraid to attempt it alone.  I wanted to record their descent, but the drop was so steep (photos do not convey) that when they sat down, they immediately began sliding before I even had my camera out of my pocket. 

They shot down the hill faster than my children run from asparagus.  But they were safe, had fun, and I was able to catch a couple of photos of them climbing back up to the top.

Five minutes later they were still climbing.  Eight minutes after that they'd ascended maybe three feet.  And very quickly we realized that the real risk of sledding on this hill was not the danger of reaching the bottom, but paying the medical bills from the massive coronary suffered on the trip back up.

So when it was Cael's turn, we sent him solo.



He was fine, and I got a nice clip of his wipeout at the bottom.  And he had so much fun that when he army-crawled back up and dropped the sled when he'd nearly reached the top, we simply laughed and headed home to the gently graded safety of our own yard.

In the end, it didn't matter that our sledding escapade got cut short, or that it would have been easier to build a snowman with baking soda than with such fluffy snow.  In the end, what really mattered was that no one threw up.


Oh yeah, and that we were together.