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Heck of a Hike
This summer, my husband and I decided to start a new family tradition—hiking with our boys. Yep! Every Sunday afternoon we plan on heading into the wilderness and being one with nature. We used to hike a lot, pre-kids, but like most parents, you tend to give up a lot once the wee ones come along. Now that our boys are five and nine we felt they were old enough to get out there and experience an activity that we used to love. We hoped it would bring us closer as a family and also create some fond memories for our boys. It was a good thought—in theory.

"Do we have to go for a hike?"

"Yes."

"I don't wanna."

"C'mon, it will be great! Fresh air, mountain breeze, birds singing."

"But, Mommmmmmmmm!"

"Get in the car!" <slam>

Off we went. Our first destination was Mt. Monadnock in Jaffrey, NH. The trail we would be hiking was about two miles long and at its highest peak was about 3,165 feet high. I knew my eldest son, Tyler, could handle it, but I was a little skeptical about my younger son, Drew. He wasn't the most athletic child and the only thing he ever hiked up was his pants.

"Hey, Mom, look at me, look at me," Tyler yelled as he bounced from rock to rock like a mountain goat after a double espresso.

"Tyler Michael, slow down, you'll get hurt." For a moment there I thought my mother was following us, but then I realized it was just me yelling that tired old motherism.

All of a sudden, I heard somebody else yelling something from down below. I wasn't sure exactly who or what they were yelling, but as they got closer it sounded like they were yelling, "I LIVE!" Except it sounded more like a two syllable word with an extra emphasis on the second syllable, "I LIV-AH!"

"Drew, is that you?"

"Yup!"

I was used to him quoting phrases from his favorite TV shows or movies so I asked, "Where did you get that line from?"

"I dunno. I just made it up."

"OK." I was wondering if he was experiencing hallucinations from the altitude, but since we had only hiked about 100 yards I decided it was simply his five-year-old imagination at work.

"Hey, honey, how are you doing back there?" I asked my husband who was bringing up the rear.

"Great (Pant. Pant.), just great!" I looked back and he looked like one of those over burdened mules whose only purpose in life was to carry people's stuff up and down the Grand Canyon. I had enlisted him to carry our backpack filled with all of the basic necessities; food, water, bug spray, makeup, cute outfit for me to change into after the hike, 10 latest issues of People magazine, you know, the essentials.

Well, after about five hours we were finally back to our car. The good news—we made it to the top of the mountain and back in one piece. The bad news—I had a rash on my legs from the circa-1990 wool hiking sox I was wearing, my husband had to carry my youngest son the last half mile, and my oldest son was covered with mud from head to toe. But, you know what? Despite it all, I think we all had a great time. It was definitely a heck of a hike!