It was a beautiful day today, and so, Andy and I decided to head out on a walk. One of the perks of living on the edge of suburbia is that a walk in the woods doesn’t require us getting in our car. We ventured to the northern edge of our still-growing community, then found ourselves on an ice path through fields and forests. We slipped and slid and laughed along the way, giddy with the permission to stay on the ice rather than off it. We marvelled at the many different patterns we saw in the ice: deep cracks beneath a solid surface, tiny craters, submerged bubbles of water…It was a wonderful way to while away the afternoon.
At about the 2.5 km mark, Andy started to get tired (reasonable, considering he’s a month shy of his fourth birthday). With at least another 3 km to go in this loop, I found myself with a 40-lb weight on my back, drudging uphill on the shoulder of a thankfully not-too-busy road.
I realized quickly that piggybacking wasn’t a sustainable option.
My first inkling was to see if Kelvin was on his way home and could swing by to pick us up. He was not. So, we had to improvise. We kicked around along the edge of the woods, trying to come up with a solution. We realized that the ice was so smooth, we could just slide along. And so, we found a stick, Andy took a seat on the ice, and off we went. After a while, I saw that it was maybe not the greatest for his snowpants, so it was back to piggybacking. But it was fun while it lasted.
5.5 km later, we were home, and we were pooped, but we wouldn’t have had it any other way.