SNOW! A Friday afternoon flurry. Enough for a white carpet, followed by a clear-skied freezing night. Perfect ingredients for a Saturday morning of sledging.
Finally the kids are wearing enough layers, albeit of inappropriate clothes (Rosa doesn't do trousers at the moment and Joe insists on wearing his all-in-one furry Thomas pyjamas). We head out the yard, over the cattle grid, up the sheep field and launch the sledge - first with me and Rosa, then with me and Joe.
Brilliant run. Nobody falls off. No sheep are injured. I run back up the hill to where Malcolm is patiently awaiting his turn, only to realise the kids aren't following. In fact, there's a definite air of mutiny. We have an uphill/downhill stand off. Then Rosa and Joe appear to come to an agreement. They're going home without us.
We watch in disbelief: beautiful sunshine glistening on the snow-kissed fields, our very own sledge run, and our children clambering over the cattle grid to get back home as quickly as possible.
Who needs kids anyway.
"Bags I sledge down the hill!"
"No, it's MY turn."
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