When I picked up the children at their dad's yesterday, I told them we were going on a hike. Sian wept. Colin felt her pain. Her dad and I exchanged knowing looks.
We had come to a sad pass when the children didn't expect to go on a hike every Saturday-we'd be ready, whether we had to take sneakers, skis, or a stick to scare away the bears. Actually, there don't seem to be any bears around the state park, so we didn't really have to frighten bears. But it always helps to be over prepared.
I should have told the kids that. Maybe they would have been more cheerful. There's probably a huge number of ferocious animals that we cannot find in the park.
As it happened, they had a fabulous time-getting covered with mud, exploring the ruins of a house, running along the old railroad track (very old-there are few tracks left) and climbing over the rocky hills. As they ran ahead of me, flying over rocks and clay without a glance downwards, I wondered which was more healthy-their lack of caution or my focused attention?
Sian, a the girl of extreme emotions, wanted to go much further than we had planned, doing her best to convince us that we really should go the extra half a mile or three down to Marsh Creek Lake.
I really do think she might have a future in acting. I don't think she appreciates her innate ability.
The prospect of dinner at Carmines lured Colin and Tyler and even Sian back to the car-and the pleasures of the world they usually inhabit. Next time, I told my bonnie pre-teen lass, we could go further. The hardest part for Sian is getting her out of the chair.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire