Just like many women somehow block out the worst of childbirth experience, people tend to forget what they went through to learn snowsports.  The process is easier and more timely for some than others, but the end result is always a wonderous moment.
As a proud poppa I got to reflect on the joy of both this weekend.

After two years of trying to “lead the horse to water without making him drink.” I just witnessed my six year old son’s “AHAH!” moment. I wish I could take credit for it, but it wasn’t me.  Boyne’s talented instructors contributed, but we just set the stage for his magical self discovery.

It happened in the beginner’s area, riding the magic carpet unaccompanied.  I wish I could put my finger on it, but somewhere in that 4 acre patch of snow it all came together. While playing around in some "silly slalom" cones he found the light switch and my world got very bright.

I was too far away to hear the audible “click” but it was obvious that something had changed. Stopping was automatic. Turning was intuitive.  Confidence was brimming. After a test run on the beginner’s chair it was undeniable.  “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

He and I went on a tear around almost all of the Mountain’s green runs and a couple trips down the blues.

"Don't tell your mother."

No longer was I leading the horse. I was trying to rein him in.

“Let’s not treat the lift towers as slalom gates today....please?”

We capped the day off by spoiling dinner with a snack and a can of Sprite at the Eagle’s Nest. I tried my best to play it cool.

“Not today.  Maybe we can ski Hemlock next week. Dad’s not quite ready for that.”

Neither of us wanted to stop. Hopefully we never will. I have never had a more thrilling day on skis in my life.

-JJ