Tonight both of you are going to bed after a warm bath, maybe some cookies and a story, and it will seem like just about any other evening. But this one is different; this night is your last one in a world of relative freedom and fun.
As soon as you step across the threshold into kindergarten, your life will change forever. And as the guy lucky enough to be your Daddy, I know I’m supposed to offer a few words of encouragement, maybe look up what Martha Stewart says to tell your kids on this occasion, and go with that.
You may have heard of it. While not exactly Harry Potter, it is among the phalanx of fantasy stories that inevitably must follow such a popular phenomenon.
And by not exactly Harry Potter, I mean that it combines the limp romanticism of Twilight with the ponderous introspection of The Hunger Games to create a book in which nothing at all happens, but the details of every scene are richly described and thought about, even though they hardly change from chapter to chapter.
Some have asked: Can we really end mass shootings?
What if I told you that since 1934, there have been zero civilian massacres in the US using automatic weapons?
In fact, since the National Firearms Act of 1934, fully-automatic firearms have been heavily taxed and regulated, and in most cases civilians can’t get one. Since then, very few killings, and zero mass shootings, involved the weapons it regulates.
I just point this out because somebody probably told you that regulation doesn’t work.
Weekly? We’re calling it weekly? But it’s once a year, right? Well, yes, strictly speaking, we only publish our weekly update once a year, but it’s coming out during a week, so what’s the problem? Got ya there.
So what went down this year? Let’s start with Connor. This sharp little guy is in his second year of school and is kicking serious butt. The words are really starting to flow, too, as people who don’t know him are starting to understand his speech. That’s huge.
He’s also a mountaineer. He climbed the entire Flume Slide Trail in NH and has also hung bear bags, built mound fires and can dig and use a cathole. Okay, Daddy helped.
Oh, he runs. And swims. Unassisted. When the training wheels come off in the spring we’ll have a triathlete.
“Did you come up the auto road or the cog railway?” the woman asked my son Connor on the summit of Mount Washington. He didn’t have many words at age three, so he simply pointed down the mountain and said “There.” She followed his view down toward Tuckerman Ravine, which I had just climbed on foot from Pinkham Notch, with Connor on my back.
It’s a question I’d heard before, when my daughter Riley was three. That time we were at the Lakes of the Clouds hut for the evening. Again, the answer was neither; We’d hiked the southern Presidentials with her on foot for part of the way.
Yes, I’ve been climbing 4,000’ mountains with a pre-schooler in a backpack.