This weekend, both of the kids went to a winter park where Cara skied and Connor tubed. Cara has only been skiing about a half dozen times but, based on her description of this outing, she's pretty sure she's awesome at it.
While describing her first time down the big slope, she told me, "I looked at the hill and saw that it wasn't that steep, so I decided that I was just gonna french fry it." (French fry being the term used where your skis are parallel to each other. The other ski position option? Pizza.)
Then she began talking about a boy she met at the slopes. I began to panic. What? She's meeting and talking to boys? In public? Without complaining about cooties? Unacceptable!
Before complete mommy meltdown commences, she says, "He told me he tubed. That's not even a sport. It's like sledding. You can't get good at sledding."
Ahh, my daughter. Regulating her mom's blood pressure with her ability to knock the wind out of a boy's sails.
