Play, the sequel (4 years later)

Almost 4 years ago I wrote this post.

Go ahead, read it. I will wait.

[Waits]

You done? Good.

The other night my wife and I took our daughter sledding for the first time. It was really a spur of the moment thing. I was going to make a snowman with her in the front yard. Wrong kind of snow. So I pulled her around on a sled in our yard (which is basically flat). There is a small dip in the yard, and when she went down the dip (I thought she wouldn't like it -- she frightens easily) she giggled at the top of her lungs and yelled, "Wheee!"

The quest was on.

Now, I live in a town called, "The Plains."

No, really.

This is NOT a good name for a town when you want to go sledding. But we went over to a local church in the next neighborhood over that has a small hill behind it. Driving by, the hill hardly seems big enough to sled on. But walking up the hill with a four-year-old, the hill seemed mammoth. I had visions of her getting on the sled, going down the hill, crying and screaming -- never wanting to get on a sled ever again.

She had a ball. She loved it.

Her mom and her went first. And originally I was just going to let the two of them keep going. Two years ago I had surgery on my knee and I have been a little hesitant of anything physical ever since. I had visions of slipping or breaking the sled or whatever. Watching them sled was enough at the time. It was cold and I figured one or two trips down the hill and we would go home. But I decided, I wanted to go down with her.

I sat down on the sled and put her between my legs, shoved off and down the hill we went.

Wheeeee!

Okay, so I can't tell you how much fun I had. No really. I haven't been on a sled for over 25 years. All though my childhood, sledding was a huge part of my life. Every winter we would drag out our sleds and a bunch of us neighborhood kids would race down hills together.

And in that simple moment with my daughter, going down the hill on a sled, I was young again.

There were no financial pressures, no terrorist bombings, no Sudan, no friend with Leukemia, no leading an organization trying to make budget, no aches and pains. I was on this hill behind my house in Toronto, Ohio, racing down the street. School was canceled the next day and I didn't have a care in the world.

After multiple trips down the hill, the snow started to turn to rain, and my wife said, "We better go home." I could have gone a thousand times more. I didn't want that night to ever end.

"Just one more time, please!"

And now, like a child, I sit in anticipation of my next snow day when I can skip school and play once again.