A First Time
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An upright moment. The form will improve. |
Yesterday she told the piano teacher. She tried on the boots in the den, get in to the skis. She could barely contain her excitement. But today was the day. Up early, in to the clothes, equipment to the car, for the 400 yard drive to the Middle School for the bus out to Mt. Brighton. Of course, we warned her that she would fall... a lot.
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Watching from above, inside, with the other adult supervisors, had elements of comedy. Falls, weird falls, and one fall flat on her back. Fortunately nothing hurt, except pride. It took most of the day to be able to get to the top of the tow rope, even with help from a teacher.
Most if the time that I saw, it seemed she was on her back again, between frustrated and crying. And it's sometimes all a parent can do to stay out. Because, of course, that's not the way she'll remember it. Maybe the time she fell on her rear and slid most of the way down the bunny hill that way. Or maybe the one time, toward the end of the day, when she made it to the bottom of the hill without a fall. I could hear, from the bottom of a nearby lift, her calling to her underwear-clad teacher to see where she was. Mostly, though, that it was fun and she already wants to know when she's going again.
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