My kids got to surfing at Huntington Beach last May. What did Andrew say about that? "Dad, I can't wait for winter when I can go sleddding!"

It's been a good old-fashioned Stock Show Weather Winter with lots of cold and lots of dust ups of snow. Here are some sweet sledding hills endorsed by the Day Clan (coming next month, Isaiah's Helmet Reviews!).

Pinecliff Neighborhood Park across the street from your's truly is the neighborhood proving grounds of toddlers, pre-schoolers and aspiring nine year old X-gamers. Featuring multiple terrains (including concrete, caution around the basketball court), the characteristics of traditional sledding hills are all here: northern slope for more snow that sticks around longer, a tree that can't be avoided in a tube, and resourceful 4th graders who build jumps Saturday mornings at 9:30 a.m. after a good dusting.

HP Hill (a.k.a. La Big Mac) with a great view of Slaytons Smoker and a MacDonalds play area in case you get cold, this epic long shot features kids of all ages, and diehard HP'ers on break. Another north facing slope it gets more sun, but the wide girth and and powerful sluice grooves enable tubers to obtain maximum velocity. Caution around Rockrimmon Blvd.

Cottonwood Creek Park, aka, Burb Burners classic big park terrain with vistas to the west and fine powdery granules of forgiving Colorado... who am I kidding, this is an 8 minute drive or less from half of my clients, it's one of the biggest city parks in the area and it's perfect for sledding. Northern slope, slightly higher elevation for more snow, this is the Breckenridge of Colorado Springs sledding hills (right down to the cold and wind).

Emma's Graveyard, aka Miramount Castle and the Incline, Manitou Springs in yonder days our fair city was inhabited by a tribe of suffering convalescents whooping and coughing from their TB and with hopes that the cool, dry mountain air of Coloraddy would cure their ills. One fine upstanding women named Emma was among their number, and she and her kin lived in Man-ee-too. While upstanding, Emma was the family wild child, and she took a liking to an American Indian friend who showed her the vistas and countryside of Manitou town. One afternoon they were on a flank of Pikes Peak above the city and breathing in a calm and relaxed manner, Emma admitted how peaceful she felt. Her friend assured her that in this spot, she would know peace. Marking the moment and the promise, she took her insulating scarf off her neck and affixed it to a tree branch to remember. She came home that evening to never wake up, lapsing into a coma and expiring in a week's time. Now her family was a teetotaling bunch, usually put off by such mystical local mumbo-jumbo, but even they were moved at her story of finding peace and then lapsing into eternal slumber. So they honored Miss Emma with a burial at the spot marked by her scarf and buried her deep six feet under. A week passed. It started raining. A lot. The formerly dry and dusty drag known as Manitu Avenue became a wash with a summer torrent of deluge and shopkeepers turned out to watch it spark and pour and thunder down. A large wash of mud came barrelling down the street, and surfing the crest of the wave... was Miss Emma's coffin. If you ever wondered why they raced coffins down Manitou Avenue every Halloween...well know you know. So parents, share this here story with them young, adventuresome whipp-snappers who can't yet drive but are always looking to raise a little ruckus. They old time... and they ain't got nothin' on ol' Miss Emma and her coffin races.