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A Family That Skis Together...
Bonding on the Bunny Slope
By Colleen Frye
That arrangement worked until the day I suggested he teach our young children to ski. Our first expedition I stayed by the fire in the lodge with my book and coffee, and they would periodically come in, all red-faced and smiles, to report their progress. The second trip they came in less often, and by the third trip I had to get all the details on the ride home.
"Maybe you should teach me to ski," I heard myself saying to my husband.
He looked at me as though trying to decide if an alien had somehow occupied his wife's body. I was thinking the same thing. But after all, we hiked, biked, skated and played tennis as a family, so I didn't think we should ski as three-quarters of a family. I was a participant, not a spectator. I was going to show my children that they could face their fears.
But after spending my first "lesson" with my husband on the bunny slope, I decided that skiing didn't seem that hard. I smiled confidently as I glided, mostly gracefully, past groups of little kids listening to the ski instructors tell them to think about their skies as making a "pizza" shaped wedge when they wanted to turn, and "French fries" when going straight. Nothing can be scary about pizza and French fries, except feeding them to our children too often, I reassured myself.
That confidence lasted until my family told me I was ready for my first ride in the chairlift. My son and daughter gave me the thumbs-up sign as they set off down the beginner slope. My husband said to just follow his tracks as he traversed the trail. My brain screamed, "Are you insane?" And my frantic voice kept chanting "pizza, French fries, pizza, French fries" as I made my way carefully down the hill.
