Yesterday I skied with a rockstar. Everywhere we went on the mountain, from the snack bar to the chair lift to the magic carpet, people stopped what they were doing to cast a giant smile in our direction. High fives were thrown, fist pumps were bumped and cheers were raised. All for my rockstar, my newly three-year old little girl who chose to spend the day skiing in her new pink tutu. And when I say skiing, I mean it. After months of short trips to the magic carpet and commutes up and down Subway, my little rockstar was skiing. She was making pizzas (when she felt like slowing down-which was really not very often), she was turning, she was waddling up to the chairlift line, and she was doing it all in her big giant pink tutu.
This time last year Alpine announced a screaming deal on season passes. Always fans of the mountain, we had only ever managed spring passes so we decided to step up to the plate and commit to a season pass. All summer and fall we dreamed of teaching our little girl how to love to ski. We didnt expect much in the way of actually skiing, we just wanted her to get familiar with the sport and learn to love being on the mountain. We started slowly, spending more time in the kids zone and eating snow at the bottom of the magic carpet than actually hitting the slopes. Eventually we made our way to the chairlift so she could be like the big kids at the resort. The inner speed demon came alive and suddenly we had the best bargaining chip known to parentkind- be good or you can’t ride the chairlift. We still stopped often to eat snow and practice taking our skis on and off. She learned to fall on her hips and to scream wipe-out at the top of her lungs whenever her ski tips didnt quite follow the path originally intended. We learned to hit the lunch room and the kid zone early to keep the crankies and whinies at bay. We hoped along the way she was learning to ski and learning to love the mountain.
Sunday was an epic spring skiing day- the sky as blue as sapphires, the sun as warm as summer. Grace and I headed to the resort around nine, after a quick breakfast and a wardrobe discussion. She insisted on bringing her new pink tutu to the mountain. I knew this wasnt a fight worth fighting or that I could ever win. We snagged a great parking spot and proceeded to skip together through the lot and up to the lodge towards our locker. Making our way up the ramp, Grace accepted compliments on her attire like a pro golfer walking to the next tee box. We changed into our ski gear in the locker room, Grace insisting that her tutu go on over her ski suit and not under. We stopped at the snack bar to fuel up with a bagel and the ladies inside giggled at the sight of Grace. You always wonder how people get the way they are, said one of the women. Now I know- it happens now, it happens at this age. Grace thanked her for the bagel and we headed up to slopes.
Making our way to the subway chair, people all over the mountain started cheering for the little skiing princess. Chairlift riders hollered down, skiers stopped to take pictures with their phones, and chairlift operators slapped her high fives for having great style. She was a rockstar- an Alpine Meadows rockstar. And then she started down the slopes, just like she did so many other times this season, but today she skied with a focus we hadnt seen before. She turned to go around trees, she snow-plowed when things got a little too fast, and she skied fast and straight until her tutu flew in the air all around her.
On this great spring day, we realized that Alpine Meadows had given us an amazing gift. The mountain gave our little girl the love of skiing. The sun was shining bright on Sunday, but nothing shined brighter than Gracie-cakes skiing in her tutu.
Submitted By: Amy