It?s a typical Saturday in February in Colorado. The temperature hit 60, erasing all evidence of a midweek snowstorm, and I have nudged my children out the back door after a restless morning of arguing and whining. The three-year-old squints against the bright light after leaving the dim comfort of his house cave. The seven-year-old shivers, despite wearing a warm hoodie and slippers and having the intense winter sun on his cheeks.
?I?m bored,? the big one says. The little one agrees. Their feet haven?t left the patio yet.
Gingerly, they step off. They navigate the grass like newly hatched chickadees, aimless and confused. They perch together on top of a pink-and-blue plastic picnic table. ?Mommy, what should we do"? they ask.
?Play,? I answer. ?You know, when I was your age, I played outside all day, every day?even in winter,? I add, conveniently forgetting countless hours of Atari and Saturday-morning-cartoon marathons. They kick at their toys, climb the crab apple tree and jump down, and walk into the playhouse and then out.
?Can we go inside yet"?
?No.?
Resigned, they poke at the dirt with sticks. In winter, the ground is cold and hard. The worms are hiding, so mud is out of the question. They lose interest and weave back toward the table.
I should take them to the science museum. The thought sneaks in before I can stop it. Or the zoo.

But I?m making a commitment this year to stop filling their hours, days and weekends with crafts, lessons and activities ...