We've returned from a long journey south to visit our snow-loving cousins for the last hurrah of the ski season. It almost didn't happen - I wasn't looking forward to such a long drive with three small kids, and my sister's report from Thredbo was that the snow was pitiful. Nonetheless, we packed up and made the trip, partly because Lola was so keen to see some snow, but mostly to catch up with my sis and her always-travelling family.
With much encouragement from these avid skiers, I watched my little girl brave the chair lift and then the mountain, albeit the beginners one. And despite my earlier protests that I didn't need to have a go, watching all those people enjoying their skiing on a beautiful, sunny, late winter's day, I suddenly felt I couldn't leave without doing it. And, well, there's nothing like a bent-over-double, fanny-clutching, hysterical giggle (or 20) to get the endorphins pumping. Such fun! And I only stacked it twice in my three times down the slope.
Lola wasn't fazed by the fact that most of the snow was man-made, or that it was too hard and icy to make a snow angel. She didn't mind that we didn't see any penguins or polar bears. She was just excited to see the white stuff and hang out with her big cousins.
We left yesterday for the return trip home. The cousins headed further south to compete in a few little races (national championships!) Cute bunch, don't you think?