Thanksgiving, part two
Nov. 30th, 2007 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amanda_loddenI'm way behind in posting things, but I wanted to get the rest of the Thanksgiving recap up before December, and I'm running out of time.
I have always hated snow and cold. Even as a small child, at the age when normal children have internal furnaces that let them play outside in sub-zero weather for eight hours and then whine and beg for "5 more minutes!" when their parents tell them it's time to come in, I hated winter. I'd get all bundled up, go outside, make a snow angel or two, and then be back inside in 5 minutes flat. I remember my cousins dragging me outside to build a fort for a neighborhood-wide snowball fight. They assure me it was fun. I wouldn't know; I was back inside with the adults before the first wall of the fort was a full six inches high.
Why I continue to live in Michigan, I really have no idea. My only excuse is that I have friends and family here that I would be loathe to leave.
About two months ago, during the first real cold snap of the season, we went to visit John's sister and her kids. My nephew wanted me to go outside and see the fort he had built in the backyard. I begged off, saying that I hadn't brought a warm coat and that it was too cold for me to go outside. He pouted and pleaded, and I promised I'd do it some other time. After all, like most kids he'll get obsessed about something for a little while and then suddenly drop it in favor of something entirely new. I figured that the fort was the Obsession Du Jour, and that he'd have forgotten about it by the next time we were over.
As we were planning Thanksgiving, sorting out times and whether I should bring anything for the table, my nephew could be heard in the background of every single phone call, saying "Tell Auntie Amanda to bring a sweater so she can see my fort!". Oops. I guess maybe it was more important to him than I thought. Ah well. I love the kids more than I hate the snow, so I wore a proper winter coat and took an extra sweater along. I completely forgot about taking gloves and boots.
After dinner, I got dragged outside by not-quite-9-year-old Nick and 5-year-old Hanna, to go traipsing through the snow aaaaaaaaaaallllllllll the way to the back fence of their not-very-small property. On the way, I had to stop to get an icicle for Hanna to lick (Nick's tall enough to get his own). The fort was nicely built, but not designed for adult heights, so I had to convince them that I could see how very nice it was from outside and that it really wasn't necessary for me to get down on my hands and knees and crawl inside. Then Hanna led me on a nature walk of sorts, through trees with branches loaded with snow, high enough up for her to navigate easily, but far too low for me. I spent a lot of time brushing branches out of the way and ducking, looking for a suitable path while still keeping up my end of the conversation, which consisted mostly of "No, I don't know, what sort of animal tracks ARE those?" Hanna assures me that they have jackrabbits, deer, and dinosaurs in their backyard. I think she might be a little off of that last one.
Finally, the walk through the trees ended back near the fort. Nick had already lost interest and was running around in the open area of the backyard. Upon seeing his little sister, a new game idea formed, and he started scooping up snow into his hands and forming a ball. Hanna got the idea quickly, and as he ran towards her to get into throwing range, she made her own snowball. I told them, "You guys can have a snowball fight if you like, but I'm not playing." They stood there for a second, both poised to throw as soon as the other did, and then they both turned and threw their snowballs at me. Since I was well past my tolerance for cold, I did what any sane adult would do-- I played the Righteous Indignation card. "Okay, then I'm not staying out here with you anymore. I'm going inside." I got pelted with another round of snowballs, and I paused in my trek back to the house to return fire. "Heeeeeeey, you said you weren't playing!" "Oh, I'm not PLAYING." I got hit with about a dozen snowballs before I made it back to the house, and I gave as good as I got. By the time I got inside, my hands were freezing (no gloves, remember?) I stripped off the extra layers of clothing and put them in front of the fire, and then I put me in front of the fire, too.
I had much more fun with the stuffed animal fight in Hanna's room later. It started as a simple game of catch, until more toys got recruited. It ended with both kids taking cover under the bed while I whipped everything soft that I could find at them. They helpfully provided me with more ammo by throwing the things that were under the bed (some of which started there, and were not at all soft; Barbie can leave bruises if she comes flying at you and you're not prepared for it.)
I have always hated snow and cold. Even as a small child, at the age when normal children have internal furnaces that let them play outside in sub-zero weather for eight hours and then whine and beg for "5 more minutes!" when their parents tell them it's time to come in, I hated winter. I'd get all bundled up, go outside, make a snow angel or two, and then be back inside in 5 minutes flat. I remember my cousins dragging me outside to build a fort for a neighborhood-wide snowball fight. They assure me it was fun. I wouldn't know; I was back inside with the adults before the first wall of the fort was a full six inches high.
Why I continue to live in Michigan, I really have no idea. My only excuse is that I have friends and family here that I would be loathe to leave.
About two months ago, during the first real cold snap of the season, we went to visit John's sister and her kids. My nephew wanted me to go outside and see the fort he had built in the backyard. I begged off, saying that I hadn't brought a warm coat and that it was too cold for me to go outside. He pouted and pleaded, and I promised I'd do it some other time. After all, like most kids he'll get obsessed about something for a little while and then suddenly drop it in favor of something entirely new. I figured that the fort was the Obsession Du Jour, and that he'd have forgotten about it by the next time we were over.
As we were planning Thanksgiving, sorting out times and whether I should bring anything for the table, my nephew could be heard in the background of every single phone call, saying "Tell Auntie Amanda to bring a sweater so she can see my fort!". Oops. I guess maybe it was more important to him than I thought. Ah well. I love the kids more than I hate the snow, so I wore a proper winter coat and took an extra sweater along. I completely forgot about taking gloves and boots.
After dinner, I got dragged outside by not-quite-9-year-old Nick and 5-year-old Hanna, to go traipsing through the snow aaaaaaaaaaallllllllll the way to the back fence of their not-very-small property. On the way, I had to stop to get an icicle for Hanna to lick (Nick's tall enough to get his own). The fort was nicely built, but not designed for adult heights, so I had to convince them that I could see how very nice it was from outside and that it really wasn't necessary for me to get down on my hands and knees and crawl inside. Then Hanna led me on a nature walk of sorts, through trees with branches loaded with snow, high enough up for her to navigate easily, but far too low for me. I spent a lot of time brushing branches out of the way and ducking, looking for a suitable path while still keeping up my end of the conversation, which consisted mostly of "No, I don't know, what sort of animal tracks ARE those?" Hanna assures me that they have jackrabbits, deer, and dinosaurs in their backyard. I think she might be a little off of that last one.
Finally, the walk through the trees ended back near the fort. Nick had already lost interest and was running around in the open area of the backyard. Upon seeing his little sister, a new game idea formed, and he started scooping up snow into his hands and forming a ball. Hanna got the idea quickly, and as he ran towards her to get into throwing range, she made her own snowball. I told them, "You guys can have a snowball fight if you like, but I'm not playing." They stood there for a second, both poised to throw as soon as the other did, and then they both turned and threw their snowballs at me. Since I was well past my tolerance for cold, I did what any sane adult would do-- I played the Righteous Indignation card. "Okay, then I'm not staying out here with you anymore. I'm going inside." I got pelted with another round of snowballs, and I paused in my trek back to the house to return fire. "Heeeeeeey, you said you weren't playing!" "Oh, I'm not PLAYING." I got hit with about a dozen snowballs before I made it back to the house, and I gave as good as I got. By the time I got inside, my hands were freezing (no gloves, remember?) I stripped off the extra layers of clothing and put them in front of the fire, and then I put me in front of the fire, too.
I had much more fun with the stuffed animal fight in Hanna's room later. It started as a simple game of catch, until more toys got recruited. It ended with both kids taking cover under the bed while I whipped everything soft that I could find at them. They helpfully provided me with more ammo by throwing the things that were under the bed (some of which started there, and were not at all soft; Barbie can leave bruises if she comes flying at you and you're not prepared for it.)
