Mini Shred Don't Care

There's that old adage from The Prophet that tells us that our children aren't actually ours, that they're just moving through us. Kinda feels that way with the older dude. And I get it. Better to crack silly jokes about slaying zombies with the buds than hang out with ol' lame dad. Turns out though, I have a backup plan. Reinforcements you could say. Because, you see, there's nothing more fun than skiing with your kids. Especially when they start to shred. Especially after blowing out your lower back dragging them all over the mountain when they're snotty nosed, cold, half-whimpering toddlers to get them to shred certification. But after a while, they start to get it. It doesn't happen overnight, and there are trials and tribulations, but if you stay with it, as I have, you end up with mini-rippers. Like my 8-year-old. Mason is having a great start to the year. He doesn't care how soft the snow is, he actually likes it when it's a little firm. For the jumps of course. And he's branching out into new territory. Dynamite is a new favorite (the Blast is soooo seven), under the SilverKing for the whoots he gets, even a Catch Basin if I promise to tow him a bit. Funny thing about skiing with kids, and the reason why I love it so much, is that every run is rad, no matter when or where. You ski not based on the conditions, or how you're feeling, but because you have to. Because when you're eight, and you love skiing, and it's Christmas break, that's just what you do.