Skiing

I am not a skier, but that wasn't going to stop me from giving Jack a chance. So today I fed him a breakfast of scrambled eggs (his request), bundled him up in eight layers of clothes (pajamas, thermal shirt, T-shirt, sweatpants, fleece, winter jacket, hat, boots, borrowed ski gloves), and headed off to Thunder Ridge Ski Area, where the mountain snow thunders down upon you. I made that part up, I think.

We had talked up skiing for a few days beforehand, but in retrospect I'm not sure Jack really had any idea what the hell it actually was. He seemed kind of quiet on the way up, perhaps because he had no clue what he was going to do. We went through the various counters and lines (lift ticket for Jack here, helmet here, boots here, skis here). At each one, the person behind the counter tried to make jokes with Jack; he was sort of glassy eyed, to be honest. But we got him all suited up and went outside, at which point he had to go to the bathroom, so we lumbered in, peeled off his various layers, and he went.

Waiting at the ski school, he stood on his skis and I showed him whatever various tips I could remember. Lean forward. Don't cross your skis. Uh...that's about it. Finally the class began, and the whole class -- mostly first-timers too, all kids aged 4-7 -- trudged over to a circle with the instructor. And sat for 10 minutes while they waited for the other one to show up.

Lesson started off with them taking ski poses without skis....then on one ski (that's right, they started out learning on one ski, very James Bond)....then on both skis. Then they headed over to the skiing area, which involved them walking past the lift...but not going up it. I had wondered about that.

Instead, the ski lesson area had a "magic carpet" which was basically like an airport motorized walkway with a slight (10 degree?) incline. The kids stepped onto it at the bottom, and then at the top of this "hill" the kids would stumble off, make their way over to the top of the hill (and/or fall in a heap), and then ski down, with guidance and help from the instructors. They probably did this about 15-20 times each.

Parents could stand behind a fence a little way away from the lesson area, so we did, with our cameras and cell phones (i.e., cameras) clicking away. I saw Jack fall, oh, 10 or 12 times, never big falls, but little falls. And get up. And when he reached the top of the carpet, most of the time, he'd see me, and give me a big grin and a thumbs up. It was awesome.

A couple of times he skied all the way down without falling. When that happened, I'd see one of the instructors, perhaps expecting a fall, run after him, because they didn't know how to stop (beyond falling on their butt, which Jack did plenty of, particularly at the bottom). Sometimes he'd fall on the trail, lie there struggling to get up, get helped up, then continue on his way. But the smile, and the thumbs up, or a wave, was still there as he came up the carpet again.

Afterward, at the pickup area, he saw me. Big grin as I applauded him. Then: "Can I take this helmet off? It's really hurting me." So we took the helmet off. "Can I take these boots off?" Well, not here Jack. I offered to get equipment and head out with him, but it was clear he was wiped out after what ended up being about 2 hours on skis, so we called it a day.

I took some pictures, and he said, "I feel like an all star." And I said, why? And he said, "I'm proud of my skiing." I mean really, does it get any better? I can't imagine.

He told me how the instructors told him to make a pizza with his skis. When I was a kid they called it a snowplow, I think. Jack made a joke: "You mean with an oven?" Then said, "Or should I draw a picture of a piece of pizza, because that's EASY." He's a comedian.

We went to McDonald's for lunch, which he'd spotted on the way there. You want to eat at the lodge? A diner? Any other restaurant in the area? "No, McDonald's." So we did. He inhaled 6 nuggets and all of his fries. And a lot of mine. Are you eating my French fries? I asked. "Just the ones that fell out of the box," he explained.

Jack napped hard on the way home, something he seldom does; granted he was not only exhausted but also slightly windburned and sunburned and probably felt like hibernating from his eight layers of clothes. We played some playroom football at home, because that's kind of a ritual now. Then went to get Kate at preschool.

On the way, he continued to be in a great mood. Glowing, really. We drove by Carvel. Jack said, "I love Carvel, because they make the best Fudgie the Whale. They make a great Fudgie the Football, too. ... Is it called Fudgie? It should be called 'Yummy' the Football....."

He showed Kate his little lift ticket on his jacket. "Look, Kate, I got this sticker at skiing today." Kate, awe in her voice: "Wow, that's pretty cool, Jack." She loves him.

After dinner, Jack told his Mommy all about skiing, all over again. "And they showed us how to turn....and how to make pizzas. Look, I'll show you....."

I am not a skier, but maybe Jack will be. And maybe I will be, too.

Bedtime for Kate, etc.

Putting Kate to bed has its own nuances. She has to put her own toothpaste on her toothbrush, even though she's guaranteed to empty about half the tube if you look away for a moment. She can be a struggle with her pajamas, alternately wanting to do it...and not wanting to do it. Few things are as frustrating as her sitting there with her pajama top half on, unwilling to go any further.

And then, of course, she's sweet: we're in bed settling in to read a story, and she reminds, "Put your arm over me," if I haven't done that yet. She then nestles in, getting comfortable, and we read.

For songs, we tend to always sing "Swing on a star." I ask her what she wants to hear, and she usually says, "Swing-ing on-a star." Sometimes she says "Doe, a deer," and I remind her, no, that's Mommy's song. And she says, "Oh. Right." And "Swing on a star" it is. Sometimes she interrupts me during. "You forgot the horse," she says. No, Kate, horse is next, or, No, Kate, I just did the horse. "Oh. Right."

Sometimes she touches my face as I sing, tracing my eyebrow or something. As if to make sure I'm still there. I finish the song, we hug goodnight, and I head downstairs.

At least until she needs a cup of water, or to have the sheets pulled up again, or.....

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I had to give Jack a stern talking to today about manners; he wasn't as polite as I'd like at the end of a playdate. He took it pretty hard and was silent, buried in his jacket and hat all the way to pick up Kate after preschool.

Kate of course knew immediately that Jack was upset. "What's wrong, Jack? Daddy, why is my brother sad?" (Love when she calls him 'my brother.') "What's wrong, Jack?" I gave a brief explanation.

As we pulled into the driveway, Kate said to Jack, "It's okay, Jack. Jack! Want to go play with my baby? Jack? Want to go make a house nook in your room?" (They did this yesterday....set up a big scene on his bed with all their stuffed animals and all of their various Valentine's Day candies.) "Come on, Jack." As the door opened, she said, "Want to get out before me, Jack?" (This is occasionally a competition. Tonight, it wasn't.)

Swimming, Level 3

Jack's swimming class started today - Level 3! A step up from his previous class, and we weren't 100 percent sure he was ready; the instructor seemed uncertain herself at the conclusion of that session, questioning his "swimming stamina." But we figured, well, better to be pushed than do the same class again. Right? But, I was still nervous.

I brought him over to the instructor, and he sat down on the edge of the pool. The other 5 kids also came over and got in the water. I started to wonder if Jack wouldn't get in, but he did. In the car on the way there he said, "I hope some of the other kids in my class moved up with me." So he was a little unsure about everything.

I watched each kid take their turn kicking their way out to the instructor. Jack was a little wild, but did OK. The instructor caught him, turned him around, and started him off back. Jack floated on his back, and his front, and clung to the edge some. Seemed a little nervous, I thought. Or maybe it was just me.

Using kickboards, they kicked to the other end of the pool. Clambered out, and jumped in one by one. Jack did one of his better jumps (Later he said, "I did the highest jump!"), went under, bobbed back up.

They swam back to the other side of the pool. He lost his kickboard for a moment; I sprang up, ready to kick my shoes off and dive in fully clothed. But the instructor was right there and retrieved it. Whew.

Afterward, he got out, shivering. I wrapped him in a towel and said to the instructor, Was he OK? He looked nervous at times, we weren't sure if he should move up from Level 2 or not...

Instructor said, Jack did fine. There was some hesitation at first, but he did everything...He's definitely in the right class.

Which was all I needed to hear.

In the locker room afterward, Jack shivered and I helped him get dressed. As usual, he expressed fascination with the combination locks on every locker. "This one is like ours! This one is blue! This one...!"

Heading home, Jack said, "None of the kids from my other class were in this one, but I made a new friend." Later, he said, "We learned 'Chicken, Airplane, Soldier.'" He then demonstrated: they're three different swimming poses. He lifted his knee up for chicken, stuck his arms out for airplane, put his arms at his sides for soldier. And smiled.

Annual checkup

Jack had his 6 year old checkup today. Six! Time flies.

- I picked him up at school and we walked home. He kept wanting to take his jacket off because the sun was out. I kept pushing it back up on his shoulders. He kicked at every snowbank, I think, on the 15-minute walk home.

- We went to Mr. Ruvo's to get his haircut. I read him the Billy Goats Gruff book, since we've done it every time we've been there for almost 4 years now. It's missing a few pages in the middle and I'm still not sure how the little Billy Goat Gruff made it across the bridge. Jack sat relatively still, laughed when the barber tried to shave his neck, and eagerly collected the lollipop ("And one for Kate," which he actually gave to her.)

- Went to the Dr., where they did height and weight (almost 4 inches and 5 pounds since last year), had him read the eye chart with a spoon-like thing held over one eye (I held my breath hoping he wouldn't need glasses yet, he's too young!) -- he passed with flying colors -- and asked him to write his first name. "It's a short one..." she said, and I said, well, he can write his last name too. I looked: he wrote first, last, and middle. Didn't act like it was a big deal.

- She asked him if he ate fruits and vegetables; I was glad to hear him mention "broccoli" and of course carrots, which seem to be his favorite. Showed him the food wheel ("It's important to have lots of color," she said, which he repeated back to her a few minutes later) and the activity pyramid (a little of this - TV - more of this - walking, riding a bike - plenty of this - swimming, running, sports).

- Had him bend over to touch his toes so she could check out his back (aces); checked his ears, eyes, mouth, heart. As she finished each thing he asked her, "No shot?" And: "Shot?" No shot this year.

- Despite being mildly worried about having a shot, Jack was really relaxed about the whole thing. Like he knew he was great but was happy to play along anyway.

- He got stickers afterward, and also got one for Kate (Pluto). At home, they put the sticker on a piece of paper, and he drew her a Pluto in yellow marker. Then he cut it out, and Kate happily took it up to her room to show it to her baby.