Winter storm after winter storm has pummeled Chicago these last few weeks. I’ll do us all the favor of not making the easy “Snowpocalypsenadophy” joke.
Anyhoo, about halfway through break, the boys’ brains had turned to mush from too much TV and Xbox. They’d sit on the couch in a puddle of milk and apple juice, occasionally grunting requests to watch “Rescue Bots” for the millionth time.
Something had to be done.
My brother and I decided to take everyone sledding. We announced this decision to cheers. We also announced this decision without looking outside. It was absolutely dumping snow. But there was no backing out, so we rubbed our rosaries and trekked out.
I snapped off the radio as the announcer said, “…stay indoors unless absolutely positively necessary…” and we drove very slowly across town.
By some strange collective consciousness, every other terrible parent in Evanston decided to take their children to the hill at the same time. Parking was impossible, so I just drove our car into a snow bank and we abandoned it. As we walked to the hill, tiny needles of snow struck my eyeballs. But I was not going to turn back, unless any child even slightly mentioned it. Or implied it.
We made it to the top of the hill and it was standing room only. Terrible parents and their abused children stood shoulder to shoulder and very occasionally slid down the hill.
I thought, “We’ll stay until one of our kids crashes into some moron and then we’ll go to Starbucks.”
And of course they somehow managed to weave their way through the hundreds of old school metal sleds and other death devices with amazing dexterity. They narrowly missed the sullen teens lounging mid hill. They blew past the toddlers who didn’t get the memo not to walk straight up the middle. They passed underneath the legs of overprotective suburban moms.
At one point, I pointed Luca towards a huge pile up, hoping he’d crash. But no luck. He whizzed right by unscathed.
Late in the day, I offered to ride down with Luca and cousin Rory. Can you see where this is going? Do I need to paint you a picture?
My brother claims he stood frozen in our way because he thought it would be easier for me to pilot the plastic sheet than for him to, I don’t know, take three steps to his left.
Wham. We took him out right at his knees and he fell over the top of us with a crunch. Both Rory and Luca cried the bad cry and I laughed at my brother for his stupidity and he laughed at me for mine.
I hoisted Luca into my arms and declared it time to go get ice cream. We then trudged back to look for the car within the snowdrifts.