A few weeks ago we went down to be at our niece and nephew's baptism. The Man's keys were hidden that morning, so he borrowed mine. After the service, we all drove an hour up into a National Park and we set out on foot for the frozen lake. After sliding down an icy road and across a parking lot, the group reached the edge of the lake. The lake was frozen, but the little stream next to the lake wasn't. S found that out rather quickly.
He and I went back, across the parking lot, up the frozen road, and to the vehicles so he could take off his wet things so his feet wouldn't freeze. When we reached the van I felt around in my pocket for the keys. Not there. The other pocket? Not there either. I distinctly remembered The Man using them earlier then giving them back to me. I checked the pockets again and then S and I went back to the lake, examining the snowy ground along the way while praying that our van wouldn't be stranded hours from home. We would have been able to shuttle some rides with others in our group, but getting our vehicle back home...
We arrived back at the lake. The Man had the keys. He had borrowed them, returned them, and borrowed them again. Whew! By that time S claimed his feet were warm so we all stayed and slid on the lake for awhile.
Here are The Man and J trying to convince The Dog to try his paw at skijoring.
The Man helping A slide on the parking lot.
Here is A with wonderful precious pinecones.