Rites of Passage

So it is day 6 of "Snowmageddon" (what the local news channels are calling the blizzard). We're up to about 9 new inches of snow from last night and today. I don't know what this brings the total to ... clearly more than we can handle.

While sledding in the back yard the other day, #1 got tired and stopped paying attention to stopping. He took a running start on our Black Diamond run and promptly smashed into the side of the house, earning himself his first bloody nose. Lots of tears, brushing the snow away, running for tissues ... I plopped down in the snow, put him in my lap and tipped his head back, pinched his nose and tried to downplay the entire thing. Of course I made sure he was OK, but I've learned that the more I react, the more he reacts ... so everything was cool. Somewhere in the middle of "look, it's not bleeding anymore" I said, "every boy gets a bloody nose. It's a rite of passage." And so started the discussion ... "What's a rite of passage, Mommy?" Lord help me when we continue this discussion in his teens ...

Today, while easing the need to climb the walls after his SIXTH day of being mostly inside, #1 builds an airplane/car transformer out of Legos and is running full speed up and down the hallway flying his airplane. ZOOOOOMMMM! RRRRRRRRRRR! ZOOOOOMMMM! RRRRRRRRR! CRASH! and Lego pieces all over the floor. As he's putting the pieces back together I hear this ...

"Are you OK little pilot? Good thing you were wearing your helmet. Your helmet kept your head on your body, so it's a good thing you put it on today. Don't worry about the crash, we'll fix the plane. This crash is a rite of passage."