I don't remember what my yard looks like without snow. I'm sitting here, staring out the window into my frozen backyard. Hating it. Another 3-6" tomorrow? Hating it.
The Boy, in keeping with his Mini-Me persona, hates winter too. Doesn't like to be out in the snow - odd for an otherwise active little boy I suppose. Others may call it odd, I call it intelligent. Winter sports are inherently, well, dumb.
Skiing? Shyah right. Who's the first dolt that thought of that one?
"Hey Bob, I got an idea, eh? Why don't you strap these slippery sticks to your feet and slide down this here mountain?"
"Sure, sounds like fun. But how will I not end up killing myself, eh?"
"Um, bend your knees?"
"Ah, OK then. But what if I'm falling sideways?"
"Here - take these fishing spears with you. That-ought-a-do-er."
"Gee, thanks! See you at the boooooootttttoooooooooommmmmmmm!!!"
Ice skating is equally inane, another stroke of frozen-brained genius. Having trouble standing up on the ice? How 'bout standing on these knife blades, that should help! Seriously. And when that got boring, they started carrying wooden sticks around and hitting a frozen cowpie at each other. Called it hockey.
Or how about that conversation for the first attempt at luge?
"Larry, come here."
"I want you to lay down on your back on this plank."
"What for, Barry?"
"I made an ice chute for you to slide down this mountain."
"Sounds fun! Lay down like this?"
"No, on your back. And feet first."
"But I can't see where I'm going."
"That's okay Larry. Just steer with your feet."
"Ah, thanks Barry. Off we go, then."
I won't even mention ski JUMPING, but I'm definitely convinced the inventors of these 'sports' were orthopedic surgeons.