The summer before you were born, your dad decided to build a contraption that would turn your basic inner tube into a one-man pontoon boat. "Yes," he thought, "What our float trips have been missing is an inner tube with a deck and a place to store a cooler!" He worked on designing and building that thing for days. At one point, I remember him googling the Pythagorean Theorem to figure out how long the cross pieces should be. When it came time for its inaugural sail down the Clark Fork, it capsized in the first thirty seconds. Credit where credit is due, your uncle Nate never once laughed at your dad out loud.
Then, your dad decided to build a professional-quality dog sled. This morning, before we set out for a sledding adventure, he determined that what the sled needed was a car seat mounted to the sled floor that would serve as a Laney Chair. This might sound nuts, but the previous incarnation of this idea involved your old green high chair, so at least this version looked less like a Sanford and Son parade float.
You seemed to have a great time on the sled ride this morning. Of course, my fear is that your dad will lose his grip on the sled, and the dogs will whisk you away to a new life in Canada. And I don't know if they get the Backyardigans in Canada.
There must be something simply exhausting about being pulled around in a comfy chair while you admire the scenery, huh, Princess?
If there's a cuter thing in the world than a toddler in ski pants, I'd like to know what it is.
As always, the only downer of the trip was when we announced it was time to go home, and you and Gus got whiny.
It's possible that the two of you would be happier in Canada, but I'm not willing to let you go.
Thanks to your dad for all of his wacky inventions that always make for such fun adventures. Can't wait to see what your dad will make next, but as the old redneck joke goes, you'll know it's going to be good and dangerous when Dad says, "Hold my beer and watch this..."
Love,
Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment