Damara Hutchins

The best snow in Highlands

Damara Hutchins | Highlands Today
Published: February 2, 2013

Last Saturday was the annual Big Brothers-Big Sisters fundraiser, SnowFest, at the Sebring International Raceway. I guess it is called Winter Fest by the people who organize it, but I'm stubborn and continue to call it how I see it in my mind.

Because I don't like to hear a constant stream of pestering questions each day preceding an event like this, I didn't tell my daughter until that morning. My son also was not informed. She was ecstatic to discover we were going, and he was not so moved by positive emotions.

He has been grounded for leaving his designated bicycle riding area, which includes our specific neighborhood. I spotted him over a mile outside of this zone to our mutual surprise. He was so shocked at seeing me that he openly admitted he was on his way to his girlfriend's house.

Because of his bad judgment, I was unmoved by his plea to stay home while I took his sister to SnowFest where all the little kids would be gathered to have fun on "baby rides" like bounce houses and slides. He was going whether he liked it or not and that is what transpired, much to his chagrin.

The first place we headed was the snow hill, which was really a bunch of shaved ice covering several bales of hay. I kept thinking that all we needed was a few barrels of flavored syrup and we could have a huge snow cone. Sure, there'd be some grass to pick out of it, but since when have kids cared about ground particles in their food?

The line wasn't horribly long and the DJ was playing classic line dance music like "The Electric Slide" and "Macarena" and "Cha Cha Slide." I wasn't the only parent who was struggling not to break out my sub-standard dance moves right there in broad daylight. There is a time and a place for that kind of music and it usually involves dim lighting, a camouflaging crowd to blend with and some liquid courage.

When it was my daughter's turn on the snow hill, she ran with glee straight to the top. I eyed her splinted finger and my mind instantly flashed dozens of images that included all the different ways she could possibly slip, fall, and break all her other fingers and maybe her nose. Ice is fun until your face hits it.

Nothing happened, of course, and my overactive imagination was locked away for another occasion.

My son strolled up after having ambled around looking at all the things he didn't want to do. I asked if I could take a picture of him. I snapped a few then requested a smile. His smile looked exactly like the photos that he didn't smile. I tried to remember if I was that morose at 12 years old and I seem to think that I may have been fairly close.

We toured all the bouncy houses and bouncy slides, and I tried not to touch or be close to anyone else's child. They are cute from a distance, but I really don't need another cold right now.

After a hearty meal and a balloon art sword from a nice clown named Munchie (who was happy not to have to make another poodle), we headed home.

Even though he doesn't remember, my son did once enjoy this worthy event and my daughter is already looking forward to next year. Hope to see you there!

damarainsebring@hotmail.com