Chronicles of Chaos
The Advanced 3 year old Skier
Michael took the kids to get their ski equipment for the season this morning. The ski shops have a program where you rent a pair of skis and boots and can trade up or down any time. At the end of the season you turn in the equipment. Much cheaper than buying.
It’s a yearly ritual. We focus on colors (pink princess skis) and comfort (will they cry when we pry open the ski boot and jam their little feet inside). But mountain towns are competitive–teeming with former Olympians and extreme athletes, many of whom are now parents.
At the shop, the ski tech takes a look at 3 year old Wyatt, then asks Michael, “What is he, beginner, intermediate or advanced?”
Michael: “He’s three.”
Ski tech: “Yeah. He ski last year?”
Michael: “On the magic carpet.” (a scrolling band of astroturf that takes you a very short distance up a very slight slope)
Ski tech: “So he’s intermediate.”
Michael (in his best Larry David): “He’s three!”
Ski tech, with a smile used to contain lame parents, his own or others: “Ok, man. I get it. The kid’s three.”
Despite Michael’s efforts, I know that after Wyatt’s first day on the magic carpet I’ll be exchanging these skis for a shorter size. I only hope I can find the same red color scheme.
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