Our trip to Lake Louise renewed the Gort’s interest in sledding. He begged me to go sledding after school on Wednesday. And, truth be told, I have been feeling a little guilty about my slacker ‘American’ ways when I listen to the other Kindergarten moms talk about their days.
‘Oh, we went skating this morning,’ they’ll say. Skating before Kindergarten? With your children – by yourself? And granted none of them has a five and a half month old infant, but still….it makes me feel like a total sloth. Just hanging out at home, in my pajamas, barely making it to school on time. Without even looking like I’d at least combed my hair or put on some lip gloss.
So the weather was nice, and I thought: ‘why not’ when the Gort asked if we could go (to)boganning. So we went home and got the snowsuits (he calls them ‘trophers’ and, for the life of me I cannot figure out why.)
Since he’s nearly six he dresses himself these days. Sometimes with surprising results. He stood at the door, rearing to go, and I had to try really hard not to laugh at his ensemble: slim fitting blue cotton jacket with the hood tucked in (that part may have been an accident) bright blue hat with matching stretchy Transformers gloves.
Not what the average Calgarian Kindergartener is wearing when sledding, that’s for sure. He looked poised for a luge run or some sort of wintry Tour de France bid.
And then he asked the dreaded question: ‘where are my goggles?’
The plastic orange goggles that came with that plastic tool bench? Those goggles? Oh please, don’t wear those goggles out in public.
‘I don’t know,’ I fibbed. Despite the fact that they were lying about twelve inches away from me.
‘Oh, there they are,’ he chirped, ‘I’m going to wear them so I won’t get snow in my eyes.’
How clever. Except…
I’m already feeling sensitive about the fact that we look sort of like hillbillies when we go out. What with ‘walking’ on the ice – in our boots, instead of skates. And wearing random things like plastic orange goggles on our faces.
Whenever we’re outside among real Calgarians, I’ll notice that all the children are wearing snowsuits and ski jackets and Sorel boots and heavy-duty ski mittens and even helmets, to go with their sleek sleds. And mine are usually wearing jeans because someone pitched an enormous fit about wearing their ‘trophers’. (Also, truth be told, I didn’t buy them ‘trophers’ until December – 2009.) And we’re carting around a purple sled that my mom got at a garage sale in Muncie, Indiana.
So when my kid stands at the door looking like Jesper Parnevik in a six year old’s body, I have to swallow my – not inconsiderable – pride and do my best to stifle the raucous laughter that’s begging to erupt from my mouth.
And say ‘okay’.
Turns out the goggles were discarded after a couple of runs down the hill. Not quite as useful as he’d thought, apparently. Which means I had the awesome privilege of carrying them….along with a blue puffy infant and a camera.