snow | Red Boots

So my baby boy’s a snowboarder. He’s five.

I’ve shown this video to everyone I’ve seen in the last two days. Posted it on Instagram. Emailed it to uncles and grandparents in Miami, London and South Africa. My mom shared it on Facebook. I’m sorry if you’ve seen it already, but here it is again!

I don’t usually show off my kids. Not because I’m not proud of them. Every day at least one of them does some small something that makes my heart beam. Or even a not so small something. Aced a math test, was called up in assembly for being a good friend, earned a yellow belt in karate, said “I’m good thanks, how are you?” without a manners reminder, wrote his name by himself, sang Ma Nishtana (Passover song) in Hebrew, scored the winning goal in the soccer game.

Not all of it is interesting beyond the six of us, or even just the two of us. Most of it isn’t. (Except to their grandparents). So I don’t usually talk about what they’re up to, unless I’m asked specifically. A question beyond “How are the kids?” And most of the time, what they’re up to is really nothing special: he tied his own shoelaces, she wrote a poem, he read the entire Harry Potter series in one week. Oh. Nice.

But my little shredder up there on the slopes – I can’t get enough of him. I’ve watched that video over and over, and I find something new to kvell over every time. The way he holds out his little gloved hands for balance. The big smile on his face. The turn he does at the end, with a little flourish. Not only can I not get enough of him, but I want to offer him up to anyone who will stop for 20 seconds and watch his five-year-old snow prowess.

Of course I subjected my friend S to a viewing yesterday. She was as excited to watch him snowboard as I was, and then she said, “It’s so cool when they do things we can’t do, right?”

Yes! It is so cool. More than so cool. I have never snowboarded. And I’m not sure if I ever will. It’s unimaginable for me. To do what he did. Do what he can do. Balance on a board and slide down a snowy ski slope. I can’t imagine what it feels like. But this child of mine, who is 35 years younger than I am, knows exactly.

Snowboarding looks like something I would love. Maybe one day I’ll find out. But right now, watching him do it feels even better than doing it myself. Kvelling.

Ski Slope Sweetie by OPI

This post was written as part of the April A to Z Challenge. To read more of my A to Z posts click here.

They spent the afternoon in the snow. Tumbling over each other like overgrown puppies. Laughing. Playing. Together. It was almost 70 degrees, bright blue skies, and most of the snow is already melted.

But they were determined to play in the snow, whatever was left. They left me reading at the pool, got their snow pants and jackets and gloves, grabbed the red and green snowball makers and trekked up the ski hill past the sign that loudly proclaims: No sledding on the ski hill.

So they butt-sledded.

I squinted up the blinding white hill and saw four figures – medium, small, smaller and extra-small, tumbling down the snowy white slope. Over and over again. And over each other. Soaking wet gloves, trashed sneakers, sore butts.

Most often their play ends in anything but. It ends in tears. And raised voices. Shut up. You’re an idiot. Or even an accidental shove that nobody believes was an accident. There are slaps instead of words, and loud wails, and always my disappointment that my very parental and annoying warning “someone is going to get hurt” was unfortunately realized.

There was no pushing and shoving yesterday afternoon. They delighted in each other. So happy to be together. Maybe it was the magical snow. Or the thrill of tumbling down a steep hill on their butts. Or maybe it was because it was just the four of them, up there on the mountain, taking care of each other. And they didn’t know I was watching.