Thursday, February 17, 2011
I've been downhill sledding since I can remember. It started out with long treks to the water tower at the top of the highest hill in our neighborhood and then progressed to really long runs down the hill behind our church. In late elementary school and middle school, my friend Becky and I (along with our dogs) would spend hours sledding. We stayed out until the ice collected in such huge balls on our dogs' legs that guilt would force us inside.
Let's just observe right now that there were no pictures taken on Sunday. There was no time when my expert knowledge had to be relied upon.
When I got to the site that Danish Cowboy chose for the kids' first real sledding experience, I looked up. Straight up. Honest. Here was my husband about to send my children over a 10 foot cliff. So maybe it wasn't 90 degrees, but the drift was very close to near vertical. I didn't say a word. 'Tis best to keep your mouth shut and let the lesson teach itself in these sensitive situations.