Sometimes you end up doing something that brings back a lot of fond memories. A few days ago Noah (4), his Uncle Ben (16) and I (??) took Ben’s toboggan (the GT Snowracer kind with a steering wheel) down a hill. We quickly decided that a hill needs a ramp. Noah liked the ramp up until it was about a foot off the ground, and called it quits. Ben and I agreed that a ramp reaches its optimal height when you’re afraid to go over it (and just before it’s too big to slow all your momentum). That height was around two feet, with a rather sharp angle. A spectacularly bad crash (starting with a bad landing and ending with me in a snow bank) left me seeing stars for the first time in a long time and Noah rolling on the ground laughing.
That brought back memories of spending every available minute between getting off the bus and dinner time careening down hills, avoiding trees and brothers, and making the most ridiculous bobsled tracks between trees. Those were the days.