I want to preface this by saying that I am from the Southwest where it never snows. Ever.
Here in Boston, we have a lot of snow. I promised my son that I would take him sledding. I thought that was doable because I have bought him two sleds, and there is a field near us where everyone goes.
I spent the morning shoveling out the car, and then I spent about a ½ hour bundling us up. I went to get the sleds, and then had my doubts. I had a wooden red rider with red racers on the bottom. Suddenly, it looked a little professional (dangerous) for my four year old. I was pretty sure he would slice his fingers off. But we also had a blue plastic one. Oh hell, I thought, the blue plastic one will be fine.
I took him to the neighborhood hill, climbed to the top, he jumped in, and then I pushed him down. Nothing.
I pushed harder. Nothing.
It was now apparent to me that the sled was for very little kids, and just to be pushed around in. All the other kids were sledding this way and that around us.
My son grew hysterical. He was so upset. His friends offered their sleds, but he wasn’t having it. It was hella cold, and they decided to go home.
I said, “Listen, I messed up. It’s still early. Let’s go to the store, and I will buy you the right kind.”
“And then we will come back?” Picture frozen tears running down his cheeks.
“Yes. We will come right back.”
We went to: Home Depot. No Sleds. Toys R Us. No Sleds. Dicks Sporting Goods. No Sleds.
Meanwhile, the wind was whipping the clothing off of us. It was so bad. And it was getting dark.
Finally, I said, “It doesn’t look like we are going sledding today. How about McDonald’s?”
He agreed as long as we ate inside.
Now, every facebook update about how great sledding was today is like a stab to the heart.