Saturday, April 14, 2012

Running with the bulls

Over the years, Brad has done a GREAT job introducing the girls to sports.
Brad is very athletic and wanted to make sure that his girls were exposed to sports, not just to give them physical activity... but I'm pretty sure he is grooming them to be his bike/hike/snowboarding companions over the next few years.

Ana and Keira at Nature Center : Favorite Destination
Either way, the girls have amazing endurance.  You see, if you run your kids around constantly, they get tired and sleep well.  If you keep running them around, they gain endurance and need more... running around.

At this point, the girls can handle 4 hours of swimming, riding bikes and still need to run off energy.
Brad is CONSTANTLY taking them to their physical limits and is always pleasantly surprised by the results.
Climbing to the top of Enchanted Rock at age 2 1/2?  Of course.
2 1/2 hour bike ride through mud?  No problem. 
8 hours of ski school?  "Daddy, can we play outside in the snow when we get back?"

They're incredible children.

Good news: Our girls are GREAT at hiking and demanding sports activities.
Bad news: We’ve never submitted them to mall-walks and adult shopping, so they’re like feral, wild children being brought to civilization.
Bull in a china shop.

Photo: BBC
Today's jaunt to REI went as expected.
We were TRYING to get warm weather clothes for the girls for upcoming hiking trips.  In the end, I think I brought them outside for a "talking to" once, made them sit on the ground with their hands folded twice, shook my finger in their faces with promises to End All The Fun Things, and finally... finally... I see it... a tent.
They ran to the other children in the tent and zipped themselves inside.
Thank you, REI... for making a cage for my feral children so appealing.

Tomorrow... tomorrow I go to the mall to buy pants for myself.
What will start as just a depressing expedition to buy Mom Pants will end in me stomping out of the mall, past Cinnabon's sweet smells and drooling patrons, past the part-time helpers offering free lotion testers... holding the hands of two scolded, feral children.
I will sit in the car and wait until I hear the click of the seat-belts and I'll make a thin vow to myself to never ever go to the Sad Place With The Pants again... and then I'll hear a faint question from a sorry little girl in the back seat, "Mommy?  But do we get to ride bikes when we get home?"


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