I got home from my Relief Society meeting on Saturday morning to find three brown-eyed boys excited to show me a brand new, hot orange sled. This giant sled was now ours, I learned. Turns out those boys of mine can make serious trouble when I'm in a meeting and they happen to find themselves is a sporting goods store! But trouble in the very best way, of course. I can tell that our new sled-friend is going to get us through the rest of this blasted season.
So on our Saturday afternoon with a hot orange sled in tow we walked half a block due east until we ran smack into Central Park, one of the many reasons that our location simply rocks. The snow was falling and boy, was it frosty but we bundled and bundled and hello--bundled some more, and everything except for my face felt cozy. But my face, you ask? Kind of like a million needles poking into it over and over.
We started at the hill nearest our house, and after seeing Everett's wide smile as he zoomed down nestled in his brother's arms I knew our afternoon would be one of the greatest in memory, and it was. We walked from east to west trying out every hill in our path, with Super-Dad pulling the boys up the steep, slick hills and then running to the bottom to ensure their safe trip.
They would be in hysterical fits of laughter all the way down the hill and Talmage would tell his dad, "That was SO worth it!" And James would laugh, because worth what T? Both boys just sat in the sled the whole time (they actually never left the sled!) while James was the real muscle behind the operation. But James agreed, it was SO worth it.
And just because this made me laugh harder than anything: After a few hours of fun the boys were turning into popsicles and things went downhill fast. Before we knew it, both boys were sobbing in the sled and Talmage was yelling, "Dad, this is SO not worth it!!!" And he was serious. And I was amused!
My boys and the hot orange sled.
The hill by our house.
My two, sweet and thrilled boys after their first trip down the hill.
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