Skiing is kind of horrible, right?

Yesterday we took Beckett skiing at a tiny resort called Otis Ridge. They had one chair lift slightly larger than Little Beaver and one rope tow. It was the perfect place for a first day. We arrived at 10:30 am, expecting to stay about an hour. When we rented the skis the guy in the rental shop said "Usually kids last about 5 minutes and I'll feel guilty charging you $25 for 5 min, so if he lasts more than 20 minutes come back and pay me then."

He LOVED the rope tow, but after one run down the bunny slope wanted to know when he could take the chair lift and have poles. Luckily he loved the chair lift even more than the rope tow. When we got on. He said "This is high. Are we higher than a giant? What will happen if little boys dive off this?" He did not want to stop for lunch. At 1:30 we made him. We imagined that after lunch he would melt into a heap of crying, whining, nap-deprived goo. Shockingly, even after he took a spill in his snow boots with his arms tucked down the sides of his snow pant bibs, slamming his already bruised cheek into the concrete floor, he *still* wanted to go back out to ski.

Uncle Luke's instructional method of pizza vs. french fries worked like a charm; you can see evidence of both in the photos. Beckett did not want to stop, ever. We made it to the chair lift just as they put up the closed sign at 4 pm and made sweet-talked our way back onto the lift for one last run. Despite this obvious adoration for the sport, at one point Beckett told me as he zoomed down the hill "Mom, skiing is kind of horrible right?" I said, "No skiing is awesome. What do you mean?" He said, "I mean it is kind of horrible because sometimes you get snow in your mitten."

Little Drummer Boy

Over dinner, Beckett got this idea into his head that he was going to lose a tooth because it hurt and so asked me what kind of a tooth the dentist would replace it with. I said a gold tooth. Beckett thought this was hilarious. Then he asked me again. I'm no Seinfeld, but I know when I have got a receptive audience. Silver was rewarded with gales laughter. We cycled through white, brown, black, green, purple, red, orange. I was really knocking them out of the ball park. Then on to cucumber, apple, banana, peanut butter. Then steel, wood, paper, (enamel thrown in for me), cloth, etc. We kept going, now I don't remember them all, but they got progressively more rediculous. At some point, the question switched into "What kind of tooth are YOU going to give me?" Same kind of answers (over time me racking my brains to keep coming up with options) and same erumpent laughter mixed with flying spittle as a response.
Then without warning, Beckett grew suddenly morose. He hid his head in his arm, looking like he was going to cry. I asked him what was wrong and he said, "I don't have anything to give you, Papa." In that instant, I too got instantly sad, because he was sad. Here we were having this game, and suddenly the fact that I was giving him a tooth got translated in his mind into him owing me something, but he didn't have anything to give. And that got translated into despond. I knelt by him and told him he could give me a hug. But he said, that he didn't have any hugs. Now you want to to talk about me matching his despond. When a three year old tells you that he doesn't have any hugs! I suggested he give me a snuggle or a kiss. He allowed as he might have a little snuggle left in him and then his face got a little brighter and he said that he had some kisses.
I suggested that we go over on the couch and he could just give me a snuggle. So we went over to the couch and snuggled for a while. After a little while, I told him that I would hug him and fill back up his hugs. He told me that his hugs couldn't be filled back up. (Still some daggers in this conversation.) I switched back to snuggles and filled him up with snuggles for a while. Then, I ventured to seeing if he had any laughs in him by tickling him a bit. Now, he was coming back up, and I kept testing him to see if he had more laughs in him and he seemed to have quite the large supply. Soon, we were laughing uproariously on the couch tickling each other and we kept that up for ten minutes or so until he spit up on me.

Talk about an intense half hour.

Superb Equipment

Yesterday we found ourselves one mile from Brigham Young's birth place so we took this picture of Bruce and Beckett next to their Great-Great and Great-Great-Great Grandfather's monument. This is coincidentally the most descriptive monument ever: Brigham Young. Born on this spot. 1801. A man of much courage and superb equipment.

Kayaking Headstand

Yesterday we were kayaking to a very cool lake, Lake Sadagwa. The lake had a huge floating island in it with very interesting vegetation and many natural canals we paddled through and explored. It was fascinating. Anyway on the way back across the lake I told Beckett that some day he could be like Aunt Allisa and do a headstand in the kayak. To my great surprise he started trying right then and there. Before I knew it, I had a head-standing boy in the front of my kayak! He felt so proud when I said he was just like Aunt Allisa.

Here is Beckett playing his favorite water game: "AGAIN!"

Trade Secrets

Overheard:

Beckett: Hey Mom, in our family, we're professors, huh?

Jeanne: Yeah Beck. We're professors.... What kind of professor are you?

Beckett: I am a professor professor.... What kind of professor are you?

Jeanne: I am a chemistry professor, and Papa is a Japanese professor. What kind of professor are you going to be?

Beckett: Japanese.

The First Shall be First

Recently we have had some firsts. In each case, Beckett went to school and told his teachers, and they seemed slightly jealous that he was having an experience at the age of 2 and 3/4s that they hadn't yet had. We went to the Jersey Shore (Barnegat Light) with my sister Linda and her family and had a great time going to the beach everyday, and there had our first experience parasailing.

Then we bought kayaks and took them up the Connecticut River, where we found a rope swing that splashes out over the water. Beckett wanted to go, and although we wouldn't allow him to jump from the top of the embankment 10 feet up, we did let him hang onto the rope and swing out over the water. He looked pretty proud of himself for having done it.

Remote Control

Our friends Emily and Austin sent us a list of remote canoe-in campsites, and over memorial day, we decided to try Knight Island on Lake Champlain with my brother Ken, his wife Debbie, and their kids, and Emily and her family. We promptly made a mockery of the remoteness of the campsite, by chartering a water taxi to take us there, which meant that we could take along everything including the kitchen sink. Emily valiantly strove to maintain the remote atmosphere by bringing along freeze-dried food to eat, but we blasted away another marker of remoteness by taking along London broil and pesto chicken to grill. We did rent a canoe and two kayaks (to go along with the canoe that Emily and Austin brought), but had the water taxi tow them over as well.

[Above: Half an Armada; Right: Beckett--obscene, but safe in his life-vest. Below: Beckett and Chris pinching each others' cheeks.]

Despite the fact that it was hardly remote camping, we had a great time. At times, we made a practice of setting out en masse in four craft armadas and finding some new beach on which to skip paper thin shale stones or splash in the water. At other times, we sent out quiet sorties either to enjoy the beauty of the island or to fish. My nephew Chris caught five fish ranging from 7 to 15 inches in length. Beckett did a lot of leaning over the side of the boat trying to capsize it. He also skipped his first rock. Jeanne and Austin showed off their paddling prowess. Kyle was the most determined student of the art of paddling. Gavin, Lucy, Kyle and Chris serenaded us all with a steady stream of jokes in the way that only four to thirteen year olds can. (Joke of the weekend: What’s the difference between a duck? One of its feet are both the same. Actually, that was my joke, stolen from my sister Ellie, and Chris didn’t get it. You will Chris, just wait.) Debbie took dead last in the card game during one of Beckett’s naps (I have to treasure that, it might never happen again.) We had generally good weather, off-shore winds to keep the bugs at bay, and one spectacular sunset. We are thinking about making a mockery of some other campsite on Emily’s remote list next year.[Bruce teaching Chris a wrestling move to get him off the dock.]