It started with the snow. I was facetiming my family from work yesterday morning. I’m blessed with a great wall of floor-to-ceiling windows in my office and a great four-season climate in my state. November 21^st is a bit late for the initial snowfall but that’s when it came nonetheless.

My wife and the four little ones were bumming around in our bedroom. I reversed the camera direction on my iPad and showed them that the snow was in fact coming down. It was a beautiful fluffy drop, settling in a picturesque fashion on blades of grass, shrubberies, and the leafless branches of our autumn trees.

The kids who can run did. They ran for the windows closest to them. When they saw the white puff painting our lawn, our driveway, the street, and the line of rooftops down the road they began shrieking with joy. In that moment it was decided that I would be home just after lunch so that we could suit up and head out for our local sledding hill. An exciting first outing of the year!

Upon arrival it took some time to safely empty our selves and our equipment out of the mini-van. The kids were stuffed somewhere deep inside of their gear. You know the look. Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man. Arms out, leg’s slightly spread, penguin-walk, nothing but noses showing, heads tilted back for enhanced lines of sight from under hoods, scarfs, and hats. The traditional little kid sledding uniforms were in full effect, and there we stood facing the beast. Task #1 was getting to the top.

The youngest child I brought with me yesterday afternoon was two and a half years old (in fact, she still is). My only daughter. My sweet little bean. If you know a two and a half year old girl who has three brothers you won’t be surprised to learn that this miniature person is incredibly formidable. She’s the supreme ruler of her world and the ruthless conqueror of everyone else’s.

I love this pocket-sized person more than I can possibly articulate but I must admit that she’s the loudest of the loud ones. She’s the wildest of the wild ones. She’s the silliest of the silly ones. She’s the most energized individual I know or have ever met. She makes gelatin seem still. She puts the “grrr” in “girl.”

She’s fearless and foreboding. She’s tiny in stature and colossal in oomph. She has power, and I believed it was power enough to climb the beast of a sledding hill we faced in that moment. So, in response to her demand, “Daddy…carry me,” I looked up and then back, and with the courage of lion tamer I suggested, “You can do it, Bean.”

I held my breath. She didn’t buy it at first. “Carry me!” she insisted. Admittedly, I was becoming frightened. I could only imagine the consequences of pushing it too far. This one is a powder keg waiting to go off.

Just then I remembered my ace in the hole…the “you’re too little” card. I pulled it. Boom! Before I even had time to back away she went off like a nor’easter. “I’m not little!” She insisted, “I’m a big girl!”

She drew a one neon pink shag mitten across her tiny face to address the clear line streaming from her right nostril to her lip, she gave me a terrifying look of indignation, and up she went. Pushover though she was, she went crawling, clawing, tumbling, slipping, sliding, rolling, and willing herself to the top, and with all of that, she made it…which was just the beginning.

Over the course of the next three or so hours I had those three of my kids convinced that they were super heroes. They’re new favorite show is about a band of friends who use their pajamas to transform into “Catboy,” “Gekko,” and “Owlettte.” These three might as well have been written into the show.

They flew down the hill over and over again, and then used super speed, super strength, and owl wings to drag their sleds back up.

When the sledding ran its course I suckered them into trusting that the wooded area next to the hill was in fact a magic forest. So gullible! We all transformed into paleontologist-explorers.

We tiptoed and maneuvered careful as to avoid becoming ensnared by a Tyrannosaurus Rex or scooped up by a Pterodactyl.

We fashioned dinosaur eggs out of snow and shouted, “Look, I found one!” My six year old even fooled his little siblings into imagining that his was hatching (the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree). Their eyes filled with wonder. Those guys will believe anything!

When we came to a clearing and found a playground on the other side of the woods we were all struck with awe. We’d never come this way before.

If you don’t know, a new and secret playground is totally cool, especially after a walk through a freshly snowed-on wood and with our heads and hearts steeped in pretend-play. It was practically magic.

This park had a pirate ship play structure. I turned to my oldest and asked, “What now Captain?” He thought for minute before assigning complementary roles to each of us. His brother was first mate, his sister was second mate, and for some reason I was fourth mate (I take what I can get).

Again, totally hoodwinked into believing that we were a band of pirates (good, not bad ones) on an enchanted and mysterious adventure. Pushovers indeed!

Eventually we made it back to the Berg-mobile. The ride home was a tired one. I called my wife to make sure that there were plenty of towels at the door and lots of blankets on the couch. It was going to be an evening of drowsy snuggling, warm baths, and early bedtimes.

As we crossed the threshold of the house little miss looked up at her mom and cried out, “Mommy, I have a stomach ache,” followed immediately by, “…and I need hot chocolate!” As fate would have it they all had stomach aches at this point, clearly requiring three mugs of hot chocolate (the only reliable snow day stomach ache remedy), and as it turns out their mom is a pushover too (the apple and the tree again).

The rub is, my kids soar easily into their imaginations. I would suggest that most kids do. I would argue that when kids trust that the adults in their lives genuinely care about them they’re willing to walk pathways of limitless possibilities.

When we support, encourage, and enthusiastically engage in the unfolding of potential with kids we incur the joy of watching it play out as feats of their incredible creativity, collaboration, and achievement.

If kids are indeed pushovers, if we can truly get them to believe almost anything as their parents and teachers, the question becomes: what would we have them believe?

I would suggest that we should be choosing wisely and that we should be working with the foundation of learning, growth, and the potential of charmed and brilliant journeys for each and every one of them in mind.

Sound good? Good.

Live. Learn. Lead.

Dream Big. Work Hard. Be Well.