Walks

I’ve started going for walks with the kids.   Not in the stroller walks, but real walks, where I’m not hunched over pushing an 80+lbs. kid mover with two children sitting life-less and not tiring themselves out before their nap.   

They are fun walks; it’s been very interesting to see what things they will gravitate towards given only one rule.  You have to hold Daddy’s hand when we are in the street.  Other than that, they have pretty much carte blanche to do anything, except go in the lake.  Ethan, for some reason wants to go in the lake all the time.  He’s started walking towards the lake and pointing to it and saying, “no.” I’m not sure who he is saying it to or if he is just reminding himself because it looks so damn awesome to walk in the lake on a windy 45 degree day.  I had to explain to him that the reason we don’t go in the lake is because I forgot to bring towels. I asked him if he remembered towels and he told me that they are in the bathroom.

About walks, to call them a walk is a bit of an insult to people who do walk.  It’s more like a meander.  When we were in Greece a big symbol around the country and on jewelry was a meandering zig zag design.  That’s kind of what we do, we meander.  If you plotted out our movements on a map and drew a line for the average, I’m certain it would be a straight line towards something or other. But that’s as close as we get to a straight line anywhere. 

On the street in front of our house the sewer greats all have a fish on them to indicate that when you pour used motor oil down them it will come out in the lake.  The kids LOVE these fish, on our meanders we travel from one grate to the next admiring the fish.  We count them, we step on them, we point to them and once we have left, my son repeats to anyone who will listen, “more fish! more fish!”  But he doesn’t say it clearly the way you just read it, it takes a trained expert to realize that moooorfush means hurry the hell up and get me to the next sewer!