They Never Listen

I took the boys to the dirt road yesterday for some mandatory outside time*. They had so much fun climbing the giant snow banks, sliding on the ice, and throwing chunks of snow at the stop sign that they begged to go again.

So I took them after school today.

This time Cubby made up a game called "Survive in the Wilderness," which involved running around on top of the snow banks, pulling down wild grapevines, and plotting how to build a treehouse like the one in The Swiss Family Robinson.

I was fine with the snow bank climbing, but I told them not to go into the snow in the woods on the other side of the banks. It's too deep, I said. You'll sink in and get stuck, I said. And then I'll sink in when I have to go over the bank to get you out, I said.

I bet you can guess where this is going.

Sure enough, Cubby went over the bank and sank down in the snow, getting his foot jammed under a tree branch so he couldn't lift it out. He yelled for Charlie to bring him a stick, which Charlie obligingly did and promptly got stuck himself.

So then I had to wallow my way through snow up to my waist, shore myself up on a bush so I didn't sink in all the way, dig their feet out, haul them up, and boost them up the bank and back onto the road. And then I had to wallow back, getting stuck myself and having to dig myself out.

When I got back on the road, I announced the walk was over and it was time to go home.

Some day they'll learn I do know what I'm talking about and they should listen to me, right?

Yeah, sure. Fat chance.

* The rule I have lately been enforcing is they have to go outside every day for the same length of time as the cartoon they watch (currently Tailspin) right before bed if they want to watch it. That way, I know they'll get at least 23 minutes outside--which means I get 23 minutes when they are not inside with me--and it often turns into much longer. Clever, yes?