In our backyard, there is a huge, short sledding hill. It was just me, and I was sledding on the hill by myself. Instead of the usual gigantic playset, there was a little metal deal at the bottom. It was purple and white, with a purple slide attached to it. I was sledding down and down, and all of a sudden I splatted against the metal slide bars. I flew backwards, and my mother stood at the door (as the rumors go) I don’t remember much long after that, but I do remember this:
I was standing in our kitchen, on the phone talking to my dad. He was asking me all sorts of questions pertaining to myself (now I think back and realize he was trying to concede if I needed to go to the ER). The last bit of our conversation went like this:
Dad- How many fingers am I holding up?
Me- I don’t know because I can’t see you, but I would guess five.
Dad- How did you know?
Me- Lucky guess?
Dad- You don’t have to go to the Emergency room. Go back outside and play.
Me- Okay. I’ll give the phone back to mom.
That’s where the conversation ended, but I do remember that I kept sledding.
I just wanted to share the story because it’s getting to be perfect weather for sledding, if the snow would just stick!