And two weekends ago, we also missed out when the snow went right to a gaseous state. Lamb tried to sled on the tiny slopes by the road but that just didn't really satisfy. But Lamb was game to try!
But a week ago was perfect. Just enough snow to cover the hill and it was powdery. So off we went!
I knew she was really having a ball when she flung her hat off one trip down the hill. Perhaps the first time I took her sledding, her hat came off and she embraced the idea of going so fast that the wind just rips the hat from her head!
She knows I don't believe it. She knows that I know that she doesn't believe it. But the hat still goes flying off at some point.
She even knows that the hill isn't anywhere near as tall as she once thought it was. This is the last year I can get away with taking her to this one. But when Mister got too big for the hill, we had only one year at the really big hill (which I thought I was going to die on, as I spun around on the saucer racing down) before he lost interest in sledding altogether.
Lamb might lose interest, too, when she realizes that hauling the sled up the hill isn't as easy as it is now:
But I'll gamely go on as long as she wants to.
And now our tradition is to have hot chocolate with marshmallows after.
Tradition is good. The mindless adherence to tradition--and opposable thumbs--are what separate us from the beasts, of course.
