There are days that the success of our mission rests partially on Henry's slim and wiggly shoulders. I have to admit, I dread and fear these days. He is after all, just three years old; a constantly changing mix of stubborness, willfullness, sweetness, mischief...I never know which Henry I am going to get.
We have some fresh snow here in NYC, so I try to get Henry out sledding as often as I can. In perfect conditions, this is a pretty painful outing to do with just one adult. Molly doesn't have a real snowsuit or boots (she could never walk in them), so she is bundled in about 100 layers. By the time I get Henry bundled and myself somewhat covered, we are all a sweaty, crabby mess. The stroller can't make it through the snow, so off we trudge with Henry walking, Molly strapped to my front, a pack on my back and our sled.
Molly is ambivalent about the snow, but she is fairly positive she doesn't want to stay strapped in the carrier or sit in it by herself. This forces me to send her down the hill in the sled with Henry. He of course, doesn't want her in there most of the time. Or if he lets her in, he wants her to sit in the back (she cannot). Or, he doesn't want to hang onto her (Clearly another problem). Since all of the "negotiations" have taken so long, she is a screaming snotty mess going down the hill.
This week was a perfect example of the tenuous bargain we strike. Henry finally agreed to let her sit in front, and hang onto her. I am dragging the sled down the hill, trying to catch some speed. I turn around and Henry has let Molly go and he is dragging his hands in the snow, slowing us down (purposely. just for kicks.) I holler at him to hold onto Molly. Which he does. He takes his now snow covered hands and grabs her right across the face. Now Molly is slouching, snow covered and screaming. He improved it slightly after more hollering by putting her in a choke hold. She doesn't really need to breathe does she? He then offers to give her a ride in the sled while he pulls. He doesn't seem to get after repeated warnings that Molly cannot take hairpin turns and actually remain in the sled.
We enjoy a little more winter bliss before Henry announces that he needs to leave right that minute before he pees in his snowpants. After the fun ends of me dragging him on the sled through the park, he decides he no longer can walk. I cannot carry him while carrying his sister, the sled and the backpack. So he proceeds to wail at the top of his lungs for the remainder of the walk home.