I'd like to think Ryan just learned an important lesson - that thin ice will not hold your weight - but I don't think he actually did.
After an afternoon of sledding, Ryan was walking along the edge of his favorite duck pond and must have noticed a microscopic film of ice on the water. As is his nature, he jumped onto it with both feet without testing or thinking. And the next thing we knew he was up to his neck in icy water.
We pulled him out, rushed him to our car, stripped off his wet socks and snowpants, cranked up the heat, and got him home as quickly as we could.
I scolded him about the dangers of stepping on thin ice, but I have no reason to believe this lesson has left any impression: even while still soaking wet and being dragged from the pond, Ryan was asking if he could still chase the geese.
Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, no you can not.
This is the scary side of learning disability: the inability to learn from one's own experiences. I imagine a typical kid, after jumping onto thin ice and landing in a freezing cold pond, would connect effect with cause and would think twice before trying such a stunt again. But based on his history, I have no reason to expect his days of falling through thin ice are over.
Stu has suggested keeping towels and blankets in the trunk from now on. My mother recommended starting my New Year's drinking early. I am thankful to be surrounded by such wise people.
Happy New Year!