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.