speaking of winter
One of my favourite things to do when I was a kid was sliding on ice. I know, it doesn’t sound that exciting, but bear with me. At school, in the parking lot, there were often these long stretches of uninterrupted, smooth as glass, ice slicks. We would take a good run at these ice slicks and then leap onto them, and see how far we could slide without falling. I would hold my hands out, surfer style, to keep my balance.
These days I’m falling into the role of the overprotective parent. “Oh, watch out for that ice there! Don’t walk there, it’s too slippery!”, etc. Ugh. I hate it! Today, after dropping of the Linguist at school, in front of my in-laws house wouldn’t you know it, there’s a patch of ice beside the front walk. It’s a bit thin, as it’s formed over top a little dip in the pavement, so the Comic and I walk on top of it to crunch it into a million little ice fragments. And there’s a section of ice where it’s smooth and perfect for slipping and sliding on, so the Comic is doing her best to slide as much as she can. She only slipped once, and she regained her balance without me. And I said, “Good balancing!” instead of the usual disparaging remarks about sliding on ice.
See? I can learn too.
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