We took Ezra ice skating with Chris’ parents the other night, even though I was not entirely convinced that my extremely particular child would do too well with being pushed around in cold circles while being told to balance on thin metal blades that were permanently ATTACHED TO HIS SHOES. He typically tends to freak-the-heck-out over much smaller scenarios such as, oh, I don’t know, removing his dirty t-shirts every night before bed, so I was preparing myself for an epic (and very public) meltdown.
Shows how much I know. The above photo pretty much sums it up. Ezra kept saying how it was the “most fun I ever had” and the only way to lure him back off of the ice was with a cup of hot chocolate laced with whipped cream. He LOVED it.
I (obviously) did not get to participate in the fun, but was consoled by a cup of delicious hot cocoa and the sight of my boys spinning themselves up in a heartwarming memory together. Good, good stuff.
The next day, Ezzie and I decided to make some cookies.
He was an excellent little helper… when he was not stealing bites and then attempting to decorate half eaten Christmas trees. We made a TON of cookies, so I was telling Chris while I decorated how it would be soooo nice to share them with the neighbors. He just smiled and kind of looked at me like he knew something I didn’t.
By the very next day, most of those cookies had already been eaten… BY ME.