Posts tagged skiing
"It's a Sweater!"

In 1986, when I was nine, my mom took me and my brother to see the movie The Three Amigos. I think you had to be between the ages of 7 and 9 to appreciate this gem of a film to the extent that my brother and I did / do. Almost everyone else thought it was so-so. But all of you 44-to-46-year-olds out there know what I’m talking about. “In-famous?” “I think it’s a male plane.” “You killed the invisible swordsman!” “Would you say I have a plethora of pinatas?” And my personal favorite line: “It’s a sweater!” If you try hard enough, you can make any piece of literature relevant to your current situation. There are zero connections between parenting and The Three Amigos, but for some reason, I keep thinking about this ridiculous film lately, and how it pertains to my life as the parent of a 50-pounder. Read on if you somehow have any remaining interest. (I’m lookin’ at you, Uncle Josh!)

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All Joy And No Fun

. . . Although this was not the first time I had waxed sentimental at REI (I go to great lengths to avoid the yoga apparel section for fear of sobbing and clinging onto anything with a Prana label), something about this particular interaction struck a chord with me. At 5, my son has a variety of interests, and my role at this point is essentially the “fun things coordinator.” Lately it has become increasingly obvious that when it comes to having fun, I have fallen into the trap of Living Vicariously Through My Child

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Skiing on Fumes

A few years ago, our neighbor, a father of two, asked Travis a seemingly mundane question: “How are you?” Travis, not yet a dad, and therefore unaware that his honest answer would hit a nerve, replied, “Tired.” Something immediately altered in our normally amiable neighbor, who spat back, “You don’t even know, man. You don’t even KNOW!” before disappearing into his garage. We were perplexed by it then, but now we both realize he was right: we didn’t know.

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Cross-Country Skiing With A Baby 101

I see you, sad Seattleite. If you’re reading this, you want to get outside with your wee one, but it’s January and it has been raining for however many days (you’ve stopped counting because what’s the point?), and you have officially given up all hope of seeing the sun ever again. You are no longer even slightly amused by your son’s puddle antics. You have checked flights to Arizona and Southern California (just to see) and scroll through your camera roll in the hopes of catching a glimpse of yourself in a T-shirt. Maybe you even have a tan. . . But don’t despair, soggy reader! It’s time for you to hit the ski trail!

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