Oh, Slush.

This past Thursday, we pulled up the big living room window blinds and gazed out at a magnificent thunder snow storm rolling across the morning sky.  Lightning lit up the house, and giant flakes of fluffy white dropped from the clouds, accumulating about 7 inches of snow on our patio.  The next morning, Uncle Chris took the three big boys to shovel sidewalks for a friend and Justin was catching up on work at the office.  I was outside with Eden and Kade. 

We have a great sledding hill in front of our house.  There's a big, 5-acre pond at the bottom.  Usually, when we sled on the hill, we stop before we get to the lake, but on this day, the snow was especially slick.  Sometimes the lake is frozen solid, but on this day, it was mostly just icy slush.  Eden and Kade were taking turns sledding.  Eden had taken her turn already, and now it was Kade's.  Before he was halfway down the sled track, I could see he was going too fast.  Sure enough, the sled sped past the lakeshore and stopped about 10 feet out on the slushy, not solid, pond.  Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I sprinted down the hill.  The sled was light enough to stay afloat for the moment, but I knew it wouldn't be long before it began to sink.  An expression of panic was on my baby's face as I quickly considered the best way to approach the situation.  I knew I would have to go in after him, but thought there might be a slight chance of staying dry if I distributed my weight across the top of the thin ice.  I spread out on all fours, and promptly splashed into the slush.  Drenched from the neck down, I snagged the child and the sled out of the water and onto the shore.  Sweet Kade kept asking me, "Mommy, are you okay?  Did you fall in the ice?"  Love that boy.  I'd jump into an icy pond for him anytime.