This is How We Sled

I've always considered us to be a little untraditional, but I think we've taken it to a whole new level.

And I must say, it was amazing.  We didn't have to put twenty layers of clothing on.  We didn't have to stuff uncooperative feet into too small boots.  We didn't have any crying about snow getting down someone's pants.  Yes, that last one was about me.  I hate when that happens.

Milo thought it was the coolest thing ever.,even though it was probably the slowest ride of my life.  It was so slow in fact that Milo was able to hold a smile and stare directly into the camera the entire way down.

Lu was less than impressed with the whole experience.  As you can see we are mid-ride and she's obviously thinking, "Please, mother.  This is special, even for you."  What.  A.  Punk.  (Do you like how I am getting upset at my hypothetical comments from my one year old?  Oh, the teenage years should be a BLAST.)

I don't want to speak too soon, because Nebraska is a nasty, God-forsaken land that can be wonderful one day and then bury you under two feet of snow the next.  But I think spring might almost be here.  I tried out my new shorts today (amazeballs, BTDubs) and opened the windows to let five months worth of farts and overall mustiness out.  Obviously none of that stink came from me, because I smell amazing at all times.  I even wake up with breath like an angel, and not like a cat pooped in my mouth, even if that's what Justin tells people.  Because he's a liar, and I'm pretty sure he likes Nikelback*.  And those sort of people should not be trusted.

One part of me wants to bust into the final song of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, singing about "Spring, Spring Spring!" Specifically when Gideon creepily sings about an eagle's eyes and beak.  While we're on the topic, if given the choice I would marry Benjamin.  Or maybe Frank, but probably Benjamin.  

So until next time, if you need us we'll either be sledding on dead grass or in rehearsal for our debut as the Wood Family Quartet.  I'll be singing bass, as I'm fairly certain that during puberty my voice dropped two octaves lower than my peers.  Including the boys.

*Of course this is a fib.  I could never marry a Nikelback fan.  At least that's what it says in my eharmony profile.  That I updated last Monday.  Gotta' have options.