Extreme Resting

Snowboarding was ostensibly invented to push the envelope on an already daring sport, and take it to the extreme. I think it was actually invented to divest Joshua of his allowance money. Now that they've gotten his last dollar, I'm sure the sport will fade into oblivion.

Not long ago, a friend suggested a weekly parent/child playdate that would enable Josh and Kyle to get some time away from each other. Most people are shocked to learn that Josh and Kyle had, until just recently, spent less than half an hour apart since birth. That half an hour came about only as a necessity, since the car we'd just purchased had only two seats, and they both wanted a ride in it. Before the car had made it around the block, each was sorely missing the other.

So a few weeks ago we started a weekly playdate that we call "free pass". They each get an official "pass" that entitles them to an hour or two of Mommy or Daddy time. Today, after weeks of finding excuses, we gave them their second free pass.

Josh was adamant that we go to Dick's Sporting Goods so that he could buy himself a snowboard. Seriously? 'Cuz that $50 allowance and tooth-fairy money that's burning a hole in your pocket won't even pay the SALES TAX on a snowboard. Still, he persisted, so off we went. WAY back in the corner of Dick's Sporting Goods store, between the snow sports section and the skateboard section, Josh found an obscure area called "Cheap Snowboards for Kids With $50 to Blow".

Since he couldn't possibly wait until we got home to try it out, I headed over to Columbia Gateway and found a construction site - in a few places where the site wasn't oozing red clay muck, it had some decent snow-covered mounds. In spite of a sour disposition brought on by the thought of red clay all over my truck's interior, we had a blast! Joshua was actually quite good at balancing himself down the slopes. In the end, it was well worth the 25 pounds of muck that we tracked back into the truck.

Back home, all the kids got involved, and the Headmaster spent the afternoon chasing an unmanned snowboard down the neighbor's hill. Even after I'd dragged all my tools out into the snow and fashioned an ankle leash, the kids still managed to become separated from the snowboard, and I still had to chase it, and the leash, down the hill again and again.

Now, all is quiet. Joshua has no money, and I have no idea how I'll ever manage to drag my sore butt out of this bed. I can actually hear every muscle in my body groaning. In the next room, there is a steamy, hot shower with my name ALL OVER IT. Except that between here and there are 15 steps that certainly DO NOT have my name all over them. Where's the ski lift when you need it most?