“Ugh, they are so heavy! What do we feed you boys, rocks!?”
Exclamations I would make aloud regarding my 3.5 year old and 15 month old and their combined weight in our wagon 2 months ago while huffing and puffing through our nightly family walks.
“Why does our neighborhood have to have so many hills!?!!”
When my husband and I first started hauling our boys in the wagon around our neighborhood, I couldn’t imagine that 2 months later, I would be walking 3.5 miles with my boys, nor hauling ass on my own on nights my husband works. Lately, I’m alternating between a power walk and a light jog, as I take routes with more hills on PURPOSE. My oldest is about to turn 4 next month and he encourages me to “Run Mommy” when I slow down in a way that is just too cute to ignore. So I don’t. I run.
I love that I am setting such a good example for them.
Recently, my oldest asked me why I run and get all sweaty when we go for a walk. He asked me somwhere around mile 2.5, and at a point in one of my favorite routes with the steepest, hardest hill that I could barely walk up before … but this time I was running up it with gusto, hauling their combined 70 lbs up behind me …
Clearly, telling my boys each night to move their bottoms and hurry up with dinner so we can hop in the wagon and go for our walk (that is how we started this summer, after all) had him wondering what the heck was up now that Mommy runs most of said “walk”. He’s like me in that he has to understand everything completely and fully and me jogging as I haul them up and down hills in their wagon for 3.5 miles is not the same thing as a “walk”.
I thought about how to answer him for a minute and slowed down my pace as we reached the top. I was happy to be breathing hard because it allowed me to think as he repeated the question and then asked me if the hills were “easy”.
“No, sweetheart, the hills are not easy. They aren’t any easier. Mommy is just stronger.”