Well, if that smiling face is any indication, it appears as though we've got another skier in the family! That makes for everyone now, excluding Mama (more on that later). As has become our family tradition, Annabel will join the crew on their regular trips to the mountain when she's five - next winter. But she gave it a go yesterday, just to see what she thought of it all. I wasn't certain how she'd do. She's certainly brave, but not a daredevil. But there, between her big sister's legs (bless her), she was comfortable, safe and enjoying herself immensely. "Again, again, again!" And she quickly went from the training hill to bunny run and asked for more.
How did my baby grow so fast? I don't know. But I do know that once up on a time, very long ago, when all I had was babies, a much younger, much more foolish version of myself vowed that when the last of the little kids joined the big kids at the mountain, I would go too. I'm not certain what I was thinking - could it have been that I thought the baby years would never end and I'd never have to follow through on that? Or maybe I thought that everyone would forget? Well, she really is the last of the babes, and no one has forgotten my words. It isn't that I don't want to join them in outdoor fun, it's just that getting a ride to the top of a mountain and then throwing myself down it has never seemed like something all that enticing. Or even sane, really. I did give snowboarding a try many, many moons ago, and lasted for all of 45 minutes before declaring it 'most definitely not for me, but thanks!' and then happily spent the rest of the group's ski day sitting by the fire and swimming in the (indoor) pool. I do love cross-country skiing, so long as it's, well, flat. My backyard does just fine for that.
And so, with Annabel's happy ski face on my mind, I've got about eight months to sort out my strategy. Maybe there's a way to convince them they'd have more fun without me, and that really I should stay home all alone and knit by the fire all day. Or maybe I could tell them that I could happily keep their gear warm and their food prepped in the lodge - while knitting by the fire? Or, perhaps I could talk them into upgrading to a mountain that has cross country trails - for the Mama who likes flat skiing. Or. Maybe I'll decided that in my fortieth year, I might just as well get to the top of that mountain and ski on down. (And maybe we only get more foolish with age.)