Fun until the cold sets in
01 January 2011 07:48 AM Categories: The kid
The boy has been in snow before. Our last winter in DC -- really in Alexandria -- was cold, blustery, and white. He was a year and half old. He had the boots, the heavy coat, he had sweaters and mittens, but he doesn't remember the walks with Nora to local parks, the shivering, our noses dripping as we crunched on a thick crust of melted and refrozen snow, the way he was fascinated with the snow-dusted buddha in a community garden, the one he had to touch directly with reddened bare fingers.
So there was much excitement about visiting the snow, the snowmen we would build, the igloos or snow caves we would construct. Once we got to the actual stuff, it was more about tromping and sledding and finally about a project: removing snow from tree branches, banging off the ice. The day was joyful until it abruptly turned ugly. He was suddenly cold, angrily, painfully cold, and we race-tromped back to the car as he squealed (unfortunately, when he gets angry or upset he whines at a pitch that reminds me of Minnie Riperton hitting the high notes in Loving You. It's unfortunate because I immediately think of the song, which makes me laugh at the contrast. Not a sympathetic response to an upset child.).
But before there was anger, there was joy. Here he is, removing the snow from the trees -- though I'm not sure this is so much joyful as, umm, intense. He's wearing a pair of rain/snow pants from a surplus store, modified for his five-year-old figure. The pants looked pretty comical.
It was good to get away for a couple of days. It got me thinking about always feeling like an outsider, about what I'm struggling with, about the way we learn to calm -- or is it ignore -- our bodies and minds (kids with their spastic limbs, with their tossing and turning and twitches, with their life in the moment), things I'll write about in the new year.
Top mage: The kid in the snow, Alexandria, VA, early 2007.
Video: The kid desnowing a tree, December 2010.
blog comments powered by Disqus