Last week, we went on a family ski trip to Utah with Mike’s cousins. The first night was a little rocky (Mazzy told me in perfect english that she wanted to go home) but otherwise we had a blast.
We spent three days skiing (while Mazzy was well taken care of by our non-skiing cousin, Robyn) and two days doing various snow activities, including snowman building, snow angel making and sleigh riding.
Mazzy loved the snow and all went well with the exception of a failed skiing attempt. Why we took a two year old skiing is beyond me. I guess I had brief visions of Mazzy, a young Winter Olympic hopeful, telling a 75-year-old Bob Costes how her mother plopped her in skis at the young age of two and she’d been downhill racing ever since.
Unfortunately, the ski attempt went South the second I put her first ski boot on in the rental shop.
“I don’t like it,” she said.
I should have aborted the mission right then and there.