On my birthday four years ago, I met my dad at Whitegrass to do some cross-country skiing. We skied to the top of the mountain, and that’s when I told him I was pregnant. The whole way back down, he was tripping over his skis.
He’s been eager to get Silas out on the trails. They have little sled things that you can rent to pull kids around, and he wanted to do it last year. For one reason and another, we didn’t get it together. I’m kind of glad, because this year, Silas was actually big enough to ski (slowly) under his own power.
He had the absolutely bipolar experience I remember from my first outing, though I was much older. When he was skiing along, he was grinning until it looked like his cheeks would break. Then he’d fall down and immediately start crying like crazy. It took me a few seconds to stop, get turned around, and come back to help him, and that was unacceptable. Overall, I think he had a good time. I’m looking out at the ridiculous snow we just got, and wondering if a tiny little pair of skis wouldn’t be a good investment.
Carlos came with us, too, and that was also great fun. He picked it up quickly and loved it. He usually plays it pretty close to the chest–you never quite know if he’s having a good time. Not this time. He thanked me several times for bringing him and asked if we could do it again next winter.
Survey says…yes. Definitely need to do this again.