Last Friday the kids and I went to my mom and dad's house for a few hours of fun.  We filled the back of the car with sleds, snowshoes and loads of winter gear.  It looked like we were going for days instead of the morning, but we were ready.  When we arrived at my parents, Martin dressed first and I sent him outside with my dad.  Then my mom, Sophie and I got ready and went out to join them.

This is what I saw when we walked out the door.  I wasn't even surprised.  When we were kids, dad tied the tobaggon behind the car and drove us down the road.

After a little time playing dog-crack-the-whip, we grabbed our sleds and went out into the pasture behind my parent's house.  Sophie seemed to really like it, except for that time that dad pushed Sophie down the hill by herself, narrowly missing a big rock. 


Martin LOVED going down the hill, but not climbing back up.  And really, isn't that how everyone feels about sledding?  Here is Martin winding up to pelt my dad with a snowball in retaliation for tackling my mom and shoving her face in the snow:


Before everyone tired of our outdoor adventure, we piled onto the Ranger and went out onto the ice to introduce the kids to ice fishing.  I think the only time I've gone ice fishing was when my dad lured me out there with the promise of drinking wine and smoking cigars all day.  Actually, now that I think about it, I don't really remember going out there.  I think I just stayed inside and drank wine all day, skipping the whole cold/ice/fishing part of his master plan.  We went out to the fish house of one of my dad's friends, which is more like a small trailer home.  It has beds, a stove, and a powerful heater.  It's the kind of place I'd like to hang out and drink wine all day and smoke cigars.  As long as I didn't have to fish.


We had such a great time and made it through the dangerous spots.  As my great-aunt once told me, she thinks that the reason kids get into so much trouble these days is because "they don't get enough thrills."  This was right after she told me that her dad (my great-grandpa) used to let her ride on the hood of the car from time to time.  I guess this propensity for fun-laced-with-danger must run on the Mitchell side.  If my great-aunt's theory holds true, my kids ought to turn out just fine.