When we moved to Washington we lived across the street from some vacant land. There were some pretty good hills for sledding but one small one in particular with a killer ramp/jump on it. The day I flew off of that ramp and lost my inner tube causing me to land with no cushion other than the packed snow is still vivid in my mind.
This Christmas our little family traveled north to spend the holiday with Grandma Dd and Grandpa Gd. We arrived on Christmas Eve afternoon and found them at a local park with a decent sized hill for sledding. My brother and his family had come up from Southern California to spend the week.My nieces were not used to the cold and snow but loved every minute of the sledding fun. My boys jumped on the first sled available and didn't stop until it was time to leave. My dear husband had never in his life, that he could remember, been sledding before. He was quite reluctant but once he was on the sled, he was gone, over and over again.
After just about an hour KD said, "Okay, I'm done." To which my father replied, "We used to do this for six hours." I must admit, I was ready to be done as well. I'm not as young for fit as I used to be nor was I outfitted properly.It was fun playing in the snow but not as fun as I remember from my childhood. I guess the older I get the more boring I become.
