William's Garage Sale

William isn't the world's greatest listener. He will tell you that he is great at everything, but truth be told, he's a poor listener. As a result, William experienced his first 'garage sale' as a skier this past weekend. For a four year old it was an epic wipeout. His skis flew off, his goggles came loose and he did a few somersaults at full speed. Had he chosen to listen to his father, there may have been a few more turns and fewer 'french fries' (skis straight) as he made his way down the hill. Needless to say, he was quite scared and upset when he struggled to his feet. Not only was he upset, he was done. The tears ran freely, his head hurt, he refused to put his skis back on and he wanted his Mom. Immediately.

I tried everything in the book to get his boots back into those bindings. There was no way we could end what had been a fabulous season on such a lousy note. His last memory could not be of eating snow while do 20 km/h. Bribery failed. This was bigger than candy. He wasn't open to negotiating either. In situations like these brow beating blows up in your face, and shaming a 4 year old simply isn't an option. After 20 minutes of tears and chatter, I played my best card. I let out a huge burped.

Burping tends to work with boys. He stopped crying and a happy twinkle appeared in his eyes. So I burped again. Only this time I claimed it was the snow that burped. Then the chairlift that burped and so on. These things were burping because Daddy was so heavy that they couldn't breathe. If there is one thing William loves, it's imaginative play. He also enjoys teasing me. So we were off and skiing yet again. I swear I forced myself to burp 3000 times in the next 1.5 hours. But we laughed and we skied on a sunny Spring day, so the chest pain was worth it.

A final note about listening and William. After what I just described above one might think that he would try to slow down on the hill. Might want to listen to his Dad and squeeze in a few turns. Well, one would be wrong. He DID begin to turn more because I told him that the snow monster would eat his skis if he knew where he was heading. So he had to turn to trick the Monster. He knows I'm full of crap but he loves a game, so it all works out in the end. But as we rode up the chairlift for what was likely our last run of the season, I asked him why he wouldn't listen to me and turn more. Did he not want to be more in control? Had he enjoyed falling? He was resting his chin on the bar, "relaxing" as he liked to call it, and turned his head to look at me.

"Daddy, you just have to let me do my thing"....the teen years should be fun.

William enjoying his monster hotdog from the Spring Skiing BBQ. Ate the whole thing.