Daddys are not the best instructors

I think I may have made a mistake when I allowed Colin to convince me that he wouldn’t need ski lessons this year.

I remember the conversation we had and I recall his own self-confidence convinced me he was able to make that decision.

Me: Colin, do you want to do ski lessons this year?

Colin: No.

Me: Sounds good to me!

Eeking of confidence.

I probably should have thought that one through.

He’s seven, man! Kids need lessons.

Yes, that’s true, but (and this is where I may have been wrong in my judgment) when I was growing up I picked up sports very easily. It was natural for me. I could skate, play hockey, football, badminton, and it never took me more than a few outings to become comfortable with any sport.

The same goes for skiing. I never had lessons and learned by following someone who was an exceptional skier – mimicking their moves and motions.

You didn’t learn to ski until you were thirty!

Does that really matter? It only took me a season to become a good skier. Colin already had two years of lessons, so I figured he was ready. I’m kidding folks!

Colin and I spent our Saturday morning at the ski hill. Our first few runs were on a trail that Colin is very comfortable with. I asked him if he was interested in doing a different run because the one we were on was boring the hell out of me. He said he was.

We made our way to an intermediate run that turns into a beginner run. I wasn’t so concerned about Colin’s ability to complete the run because he’d done it many times before – well, last year. However, I was cautious and asked him to take his time.

The slope was steep for him and within moments he wiped out. I knew this because just as I stopped to watch him I caught his ski which was now minus one seven year old.

I made my way up to him and I knew right away that his tumble had frightened him. Seconds later I heard him crying.

Colin: Daddy, it’s too big. I can’t go down it.

What other choice do you have?

I felt bad for my son and tried to comfort and reassure him that he could do it. I was also aware that his fall and being frightened might have an impact on how he felt about skiing in general. He might decide that he doesn’t like to ski anymore. It’s very easy for children to stop participating in an activity when they become fearful.

I certainly didn’t want him to feel that way because I enjoy the sport and especially love sharing it with him.

Me: Buddy, you’ve done this run before. We did it together last year. It’s not a long run and we can do it together. I’ll stay right beside you. Okay? But first, you need to straighten your skis out.

Colin: But I’ll ski into the woods.

I wouldn’t do that – there may be a bear hibernating and you definitely don’t want to jab it in the back with a ski.

Me: Buddy, you’re not going to make it down the mountain with your skis crossed. Don’t worry. I’ll stay right close to you.

Colin was fine with that.

He wiped out once more, but I was there like I said I would be.

We took a break in the chalet and I shared some embarrassing stories about my first year skiing and while he laughed at some of the silly things I did, I realized I’m not skilled enough to teach Colin how to ski. He needs an instructor.

Monday morning I made a call and arranged for some lessons.

First run of the morning. It was cold (-15C)