It seems ironic that, for all the hills we have around here, we were hard up for one close to home on which to go sledding. On farmland that’s a good problem to have, because it means you have more level ground to work, but in the deep of winter’s grasp, we surely wanted just one steep slope to make the best of this Klondike-like weather. 

If we were ambitious enough, we could certainly hike a ways or pack the sleds up and go elsewhere; however, both my wife and my two young boys had a very strict exposure countdown once we entered the frigid elements. 

With the clock in mind and my own selfish ulterior motives, I concocted a family plan. 

My G tractor just got fixed up right before winter, and it’s been itching to burn up a little gas to stay fresh. So inspired by Santa Claus or any other sled-hauling entity, I started the engine and left it idle in the driveway while I disappeared to the basement to fetch a few sleds and a waterski towrope. I lined them up behind the tractor in the driveway like the runway on an aircraft carrier, in anticipation of a mission. The kids were arguing they didn’t want to go; I was getting a tired look from my wife; and all the while I kept tying knots and setting up the rigging so everyone would be safe. 

It took some effort to wrangle everyone into the sleds at the same time. Some photos were snapped, knowing we probably looked a tad ridiculous, and I set up my headphones so I could hear my wife calling me if there was a problem from behind.

Ready to launch, I mounted my iron horse and checked the tension on the rope. I looked behind me to confirm everyone was seated and ready to go. My oldest was already screaming, my wife was bear-hugging my youngest to keep him inside the sled, and the dog was excitedly running around trying to lick faces through bundles of hats and scarves. 

Off we went at a menacing 5 miles per hour in first gear, while I adjusted to the feel of the towrope and made sure nothing was breaking. Immediately, my oldest started smiling as though he truly had no idea this was what we were going to be doing and that it would be fun. 

Now, as we slowly slid over the icy driveway and entered the fields near our house, suddenly the whole crew was on board for the fun. I kicked into second gear and we throttled up to perhaps 10 miles per hour, fast enough to keep our dog Winnie working hard as she bounded through the snow alongside our little caravan. 

We toured the perimeter of the farm, sledding uphill as it were, carefully making wide turns as we went due to a discovery in engineering I hadn’t accounted for. My oldest was in the first sled behind me, connected by a lateral leash to the main line. My wife and youngest were simply tied onto the end of the main line. Whenever we would turn, the rope would pass over my oldest. If the rope had its way, it would pass through him. He instead figured out that he would have to lie down in his sled, and attempt to push the rope up and over him as we turned in order to not be flipped or pushed out of his sled. As he did this and I watched him over my shoulder, I thought he was rather clever to pay attention to that and come up with an effective solution. As I kept watching him, though, he decided to remove his hat and gloves and slowly scoop snow into his lap like he was burying himself at the beach… 

All parents, sigh with me.

Shenanigans aside, we looped the farm once, waving to Grandpa on the way through. My wife, thoroughly unimpressed with the amount of hard patches she was skidded over in the duration of the ride, was out of that sled in a blink to get the hot cocoa going in the house. 

The way out here we make the best with what we have, and sometimes it turns out to be better than what we were looking for in the first place. After all, nobody had to walk up a hill to sled back down again. What’s more, I got to drive my tractor. 

I’ll leave you with a side note, perhaps to the dads reading this. Even if the whole family is fighting the idea, do it anyway. If your conviction is true, you will know what will make them happy more than they will. Sometimes it takes a crowbar to get them off the couch and into a sled, but when they’re older with kids of their own, they’ll know that you fought to give them the kind of childhood that matters.