Winter in the Twin Tiers is beautiful. And it can make you crazy. It’s often said among outers (as Nessmuk referred to outdoor enthusiasts) that there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear (or variations to that effect). As outdoor pursuits have become fashionable, so has the gear—from clothing to, now, thermal accessories that do not involve waffle weave. I’m talking about the mug, water bottle, and almighty thermos that can be found in as many colors as there are brands.

I remember the missile-sized red plaid thermoses my parents had when I was growing up, but thermoses quickly became a thing of the past for me. Water bottles, oh, I had plenty of them. My husband and I had lots of gear—in fact one of the fun things about having kids in our late thirties was having money to buy kid-related outdoor apparatus. (That off-road stroller we only used a handful of times.) We always planned to take our kids on outdoor adventures but were adamant they not be death marches or lessons in how to suffer. Most adults I talk to who “don’t do the outdoors” give me stories of freezing or being hungry on treks with their parents in Vermont in the 1970s. So, Jimmy and I were always prepared.

Or so I thought.

Three years after moving to northcentral Pennsylvania, I found myself one winter with a bad case of cabin fever. I had a four-year-old, an eleven-month-old, and if I heard another Wiggles song I was going to scream. The snow outside the window was enchanting, and I needed to see it on trees, not just cars. Jimmy was on winter break at the university when I decided it was time to take Gabe sledding. Our friends Tim and Jackie Schlitzer lived in Arnot on the edge of the Tioga State Forest and knew a good spot, so I packed snacks, we bundled the kids up, and off we went.

When bundling kids, layers are key—put an athletic (synthetic) layer on first, and avoid cotton so the sweat from exertion doesn’t sit against their skin and cool down. My daughter was insulated and in a chest carrier that my coat went over. Gabe was likewise adorned—with the addition of boots. I didn’t anticipate any issues, and had convinced myself this adventure was all for him. Gabe loved the cold. Since he was two he’d sit out by a campfire for hours when it was snowing, listening to Daddy and the Old Man tell stories long after I’d ducked inside the man cave to warm up.

I was surprised, therefore, when we’d hardly even gotten to the spot our friends had in mind—having dragged the sled from their house—when Gabe, who was the most easygoing of kids, declared he wasn’t going sledding, he was going home. No snack in my pockets could change his mind. He marched off while Jimmy and I looked at each other like “What do we do now?” and “Where the heck does he think he’s going?”

That’s when Jackie pulled out her thermos and announced a hot chocolate break. I thought, “Gabe doesn’t like hot things. This won’t work.” How wrong I was. Maybe it was his crush on Jackie that got him to try a sip (a year later when he had a girlfriend in kindergarten, he’d say Jackie was his first girlfriend), but he drank that cup of cocoa, his small hands wrapped around the thermos lid, and POOF. New child.

The combination of calories and warmth is magical for all ages, but essential when taking children out when it’s cold and they can’t get to shelter easily. We know we burn more calories in winter, and when you’re bonking (a technical term for running out of steam/crashing) having something sweet can quickly adjust your attitude. It’s also true that digesting warm food and drink raises your internal temperature through thermogenesis.

And don’t underestimate the psychological effect such comfort can have on a person. Being really cold feels scary. As adults, we can assess how serious it is and how soon we will be back in a stable environment. Kids cannot. Promising hot cocoa at home afterwards is merely cold comfort.

When kids are old enough to express what they do and don’t enjoy about going outdoors, listen to them. If you have a new experience that you think they’d like, the worst thing you can do is force it on them saying, “Just hang on, you’ll love this!” Maybe that plan is too much all at once, and you can start with a smaller adventure—shorter distance, better weather—or find a friend of theirs who will go too. Bring the snacks you never let them have or grab the fast food you usually forbid. Most of all be flexible. But don’t hesitate to introduce toddlers to winter outdoor fun—just be sure you are exposing them to the fun more than the elements.

After a gradual start near the end of the long, not very steep hill, Gabe enjoyed sledding the whole expanse with an adult. And he really enjoyed seeing his mother hand off the baby and take a ride with Jackie—two adults going much faster, tumbling into the snow at the end.

We didn’t sled long, but we’d made memories, and I never forgot the importance of bringing a thermos. When Gabe started hunting as a teenager, I bought him his first one. I got myself the same kind when I started hunting, too. Screwing the cap off slowly and silently and getting that first whiff of coffee while sitting in a tree stand surrounded by bare branches and snow-covered hills was euphoric. The shivers stopped while I wrapped my hands around the cup, wondering how my son was doing in his tree stand just over the ridge.

There are so many thermoses. They all keep things hot, but if you need something to keep liquid steaming for eight hours or more, check out reviews. Otherwise, just make sure there’s a good seal. I’ve bought and received several over the years, and the value of them lies mostly in the memories they keep eternally warm. When it comes down to it, the best thermos is the one you have in arms’ reach when you—and your kids—are in need of quick calories and heat. Because memory-hunting season is year-round outdoors in the Twin Tiers, and you don’t want to miss a moment.