On the snowboarding trip this weekend, Youngest had a rocky start. First, his new boots didn’t fit his board so they had to make a trip to the rental shop, then he felt queasy on the chairlift ride and barfed over the side, and when he got up after putting on his board for the first time, he fell, hard, on a basically flat slope. It was an inauspicious beginning by any measure and both he and Mate thought they were in for a rough weekend. But lo and behold, by the middle of the first run, he was carving turns, cruising down the mountain, and generally reveling in his newly discovered gift.
As they slid into the lift line at the bottom of the mountain, Youngest turned to Mate and said, “You know Dad, every kid’s dream is to be good at something without practicing."
I wonder if he imagines that adulthood is like a giant avalanche that strips your dreams from your hands and buries them under a giant pile of study habits. I’d better tell him that no matter how old you get, you can still dream of a moment when you sail down a mountainside, and something hard is easy.