I'd never been more excited about stow and go seats than that afternoon.
When we arrived at the frozen lake, Lucy popped out of her carseat, ready to run out onto the ice in bare feet and silk underlayer of clothing. I convinced her to step into the back of the van, where she quickly pulled on her pink snow pants, asking insinstently if I had texted Grandpa and if he knew we had arrived. As she chattered and wiggled about in excitment, layers of clothing were put on as quickly as others were rejected and taken off. As she pushed the button and the door started to slide open, I popped a yellow hat on her head and she was gone, running full speed through the snow toward Grandpa, who was waiting a few feet away. I was still in the back of the van, standing amidst a tornado of extra clothes and mittens. A half eaten sandwich discarded at my feet in her haste to get outside and onto the ice.
We spent the afternoon on the frozen lake. She slipped, she slid, she wooped, she twirled, she skipped, and she scooted. She had a fantastic time. And as we walked back towards the car, pink cheeked, exhausted and happy, she said "I want to be an iceboater when I grow up." Just like her grandpa.
