Recapping Winter: Snowmobiling

January kicked off G's winter sports season in earnest. This year, his time was split pretty evenly between snowmobiling and downhill skiing. Between a full day of school and Mom's return to full-time employment, G saw a marked decline in plain, old fashioned snow fun--we built fewer snowmen, spent very little time racing each other down the sled hill, and never once had to switch to the backup snowsuit while the other hung wet from earlier play.

Instead, G played outside at recess and, after school, at daycare. Until the weekend, when his Dad packed as much outdoor fun in as possible--snowmobiling most Saturdays and skiing most Sundays.

Big milestone in snowmobiling this year. Dad sold G's Kitty Kat and started him on the Yamaha 340--a vintage sled sized just right for G. They started in the yard and graduated to a handful of trail rides--weeknights and Sunday afternoons (to avoid other sled traffic). Sandwiched between Dad (confident) and Mom (nervous but proud), he kept to a safe speed and pretty much stuck to his side of the trail. These were short jaunts, but they made him feel so "big." If you asked him about it, he would tell you--"I have a headlight now." For G, this meant he could hit the trails. His way of understanding the difference between riding a Kitty Kat (no headlight) around the yard and powering an adult-sized machine on the trail. Instead of..."when I grow up"...it was..."when I get a headlight."

In addition to these solo flights, G spent plenty of time astride his Dad's machine (just too tall to ride with Mom anymore). He also got to ride with Uncle Curt, who joined us for quite a few snowmobiling weekends this year. Locally, we didn't venture far. But we did get to the UP--resuming our annual trip, with Mr. Nelson and Uncle Curt along for the fun. We logged over 150 miles that first day, on perfect trail, in perfect weather. Everywhere we stopped, G found the nearest snowbank (or mountain), climbed it and threw himself off the top. Again and again.

Unfortunately, a bout of severe flu hit him after midnight that first night and he and Mom spent the rest of the weekend cabin-bound. Poor kid. This was the way of it much of this winter. Hands down, G was sick more during these months than he was in the first five years of his life. One word: kindergarten.