Oh heavens. Time for the enthusiastic and somewhat athletic third child to join the skiing fray. After watching the first two take beginner lessons, I developed a good grasp of some basic techniques for getting them started, so rather than pay a lot of money for a lesson where language would be an issue, we just took on the task ourselves.
All geared up...
Mother's Note to Self: Next time, triple check the size of the ski bib you bring from the desert, because the size 8 that you thought was a size 5 was a little awkward. Thankfully, the daughter was a good sport.
Mother's Note to Self: Next time, triple check the size of the ski bib you bring from the desert, because the size 8 that you thought was a size 5 was a little awkward. Thankfully, the daughter was a good sport.
The training slope was actually closed, because no classes were scheduled, so what to do? The answer is the Papa Ski Lift. Her father would pick her up, walk her up the hill, and send her gliding back down to me. I carried her a couple of times, and it was freaking hard work. Hands-on parenting.
She fell just as much as a normal person of any age falls in the first day of learning. Nothing horrible, thank goodness, but she still got a little frustrated after a while. Hugs from Dad helped.
On the second day, we found the larger and nicer second kids' area (Zauchensee was bigger than expected!), and she had a good time on the belt lift. By the end of a long second lesson, she could stay upright but not quite steer yet. Next year's lesson--if we're lucky to get the chance--she'll be ready for some big steps.
And here's one of her first day tries...
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