Sacha went walking with me this morning. It was snowing. I thought I was impressing him since I could walk up the hills without stopping to catch my breath. He snickered, "You're talking so your not walking fast enough." I should have kept my mouth shut because from that moment on he became a drill coach, I couldn't help myself when I said,
"I don't really respond well to this approach."
"Too bad." He teased and kept on teasing, even to the point of telling me how to breath, how to roll my heels, how to increase my speed, and basically drugged me up the hill.
In English we would say, "I was fried."
In French they say, "Je suis cuit!" (I am cooked.)
I was both fried, cuit and pooped. Tomorrow I am going to be sore, I can already feel it.
Smiling at his fried cuit pooped Mother.
As I use to say when he was little and in trouble,
"It is a good thing you are so cute... otherwise."
Oversized snowflakes
We tried to catch them with our tongues.
In the end, the thought of my son thinking I could improve made me feel empowered.
Funny how that parenting thing reverses.
My daughter challenged me to run a 10K race in March,
My son tells me, "You can do it, but you gotta work harder. Just finishing is not enough."
Isn't that the truth.
Put your best foot forward and leap!
