It wasn't fancy, but we took New Year's Eve Day (the official holiday for parents of young children) and went to Ashland. After lunch we went ice skating in the park. That sounds romantic, right? It may be, but I'm a 200 pound gorilla flailing around on hockey skates, not Brian Boitano. Apparently, the only adult males who skate at this rink are all professionals. Except for me, of course. After an hour there, my New Year's Resolution was to do one of those cool ice-spray stops that hockey players do. I got as far as a slow stop, wall grab, and slip. We finally had to hang up our skates when Regina got taken out by a toddler pushing around a "learning aid" (read: walker).
We limped around town, enjoyed some wine and cheese, and watched True Grit. Our date may have continued indefinitely, but our parental responsibilities (read: guilt) kicked in and we came home to gather the kids, watch Dick Clark, and down some old champagne to welcome in 2011 (EST, of course).
For an encore, that Sunday we decided on a Family Date Day and took the monkeys sledding. Watching Dylan rip down an icy slope is as fun as watching old people dance: there's a chance for a wreck at any moment. Grady's not ready for high speed sledding, so he basically sat in the snow and cried.
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