The middle child and I went up to the mountain yesterday for the final day of our snowboard season. Even though it was tagged as ‘Springfest 2011’, it was almost blizzard like at times. Crazy weather, lots of snow … it was awesome (I was meant to be a snow bunny, I’m sure of it). There were lots of planned festivities (the pond skimming was hysterical!), huge crowds, general merriment was had by all that we saw.
The big news of the day for my little rockstar was that he conquered his fear of the chair lift. All season he has been freaked about riding one. He’s been in full day lessons, spent the day on the ‘bunny’ hill, done everything he could to avoid it. So after hiking up the bunny hill a couple times, enough was enough for me. Despite the tears and the fear in his voice, I more or less made him agree to ride it with me.
Me. The experienced snowboarder.
He tried hard not to let the tears go while we were riding the lift. He was terrified.
I felt horrible for putting him through such torture.
I told him we’d probably both fall as we got off the chair (we did) but that we’d have time to move out of the way (we did), and it wouldn’t hurt (too bad).
We got to the end of the ‘ride’, plopped our boards down on the snow, pushed off from the lift and immediately fell down. But we got up, breathed a sigh of relief, fist bumped and got ready to strap our boards on. The smile on his face was priceless.
The best part? I lost count of how many times he went back up on the lift. He even rode up a couple times with his buddies. And every time he fell, he just got right back up and tried it again.
Rockstar!
Musings from a mom of three - a teen, a tween and a toddler - trying to retain some sanity.
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