Yesterday was a typical day with the kids – moments of independence and success, followed by screaming and hysterics, followed by some content over hot chocolate.
Bridget has the week off from preschool, so after Timothy’s morning nap we headed out to Bretton Woods, first to meet some friends of ours who are new parents at Fabyan’s for a little lunch.
Bridget, inspired by the news that one of her five-year old friends had skied all the way to the yurt, was eager to Nordic ski. She cruised ahead of me as I towed Timothy and I was happily surprised to see how much more agile she was getting with her skis on – she could turn direction and when we had to go up the incline over the Ammonusuc River bridge near the Nordic Center, she instinctively turned her toes out to form her skis into a “V” to keep herself from slipping backwards. She still needs help getting up when she falls, but the falls were a bit fewer this time. When other skiers passed by and cheered her on, she would shuffle her feet faster, almost in a run. Now, if I could only convince her that she doesn’t really need poles quite yet! I wasn’t going fast enough to get any kind of a workout, but it was so great to just be outside in the bright sunshine, watching Bridget scoot along happily.
We made it down Perimeter behind the Omni Mount Washington Hotel a ways before Bridget decided that she would like to get in the Chariot and ride for a while. She told me that she intended to take a nap in the Chariot, so I knew she was tired – at three and a half, she only naps begrudgingly. In the Chariot with Timothy, there was the usual jostling for position and complaints of he/she is on my side, but they soon settled down and Bridget was asleep in about ten minutes. Timothy quieted down as well, and I figured now was my chance to get that workout in. With 75 pounds of kids and Chariot behind me, I stayed on the flat trails: Perimeter, Turnpike, Rye Field, and the start of Dark Forest.
But just before I was going to turn around on Dark Forest, before the Eisenhower Wayside Park hill, my fortune changed. Timothy started crying that horrible cry when they’ve been woken up way too early. Bridget’s head had slumped sideways on to his, and I’m afraid he had her hat and all those crazy blonde curls in his face. I tried to make the necessary adjustments, but he couldn’t be placated. So I just headed back as quickly as I could, Timothy screaming. By the time I was back to the intersection of Crawford’s Pass, he had woken Bridget up, and now coming from her: that desperate cry of a little one whose nap has been cut way too short. I stopped and tried to calm them down with a reassurance that we’d head straight back to the Nordic Center, but reasoning with toddlers doesn’t always fly, and so I sprinted back with screaming babies in tow. It was a long ten minutes.
Back at the Nordic Center, a round of hot chocolates seemed to cure all woes. They were both headed for an early bedtime that evening, but for the time being, the kids were back on the happy side of the roller coaster. At home, Bridget bragged to Daddy that the other skiers were saying how fast she was going. Although I wasn’t excited that the kids missed a nap that they both needed, I was so happy to see Bridget beam with pride at her accomplishment.