There was actual snow on the ground – again – last weekend, and the kids had been inside too long. We were in the midst of one of those hair-pulling hours that can easily lead to bloodshed. When Geoff’s face took on a desperate Let’s Get Out of Here look, I began shoving the boys into their snowpants. They insisted, rather loudly, that they wanted to stay home but I convinced them with something soft and motherly along the lines of, “I don’t care if you want to go tobogganing or not. You’re going and you’ll bloody well like it.”
Which is why we found ourselves, half an hour later, standing at the top of the best hill around, watching our older boy hurtle himself headfirst onto an air mattress, the snow beneath him turned to ice and mud from overuse. I was about to take off for my third trip down when Geoff gave me some helpful advice.
I care what you think. I do so.