You would think that sledding would be an unremitting thrill for a five year old, and you would be right, in the sense that many things are thrilling, and that different sorts of thrills have differing reasonable limits. For Kina, it seems we can do about ten consecutive minutes of sledding before she melts down and we have to find another hill, where she finds a second—and then a third, fourth, fifth, and sixth—wind, sliding gleefully down the crowded slopes of East 79th Street, aimed directly at her daddy’s blueberry jacket to take. him. down. Next time it snows, I dare you to stand in her way. I dare you to the Dark Ages.
p.s. Here is the story of Kina’s favorite soup, whose name is Roberto.