ski lessons

Most days I am complacent to be where we are. Away from family. But not during moments like this.

I found Parker's skis in the garage while I was bringing in the Christmas decorations. Last year he obviously did not have a chance to use them, and I don't think he remembered being pulled around when he was only one and a half. So, to him, they were brand new!

He practiced inside for quite a bit and then moved out into the snow. He happily tried to ski around the yard with the biggest smile plastered across his face. I was so proud that he did not show disappointment or frustration whenever he fell - which was about every three feet.

I saw my brother in him. His goofy grin. His excitement. His joy. And I wished we could go home. So that Parker could head up to the mountain and get real deal skiing lessons from his Uncle Dan the Man. The two of them would surely have the best time. It doesn't take much to imagine all the fun that they would have. And it breaks my heart that they cannot.

I don't know much about skiing, Tyler doesn't ski at all, but Parker - he has it in him - and I want nothing more than to foster that love. And I kid you not, when Parker was born in Australia I made it known that we should start training him at a young age for a winter olympic sport so he would be an easy shoo-in for the Australian team. I am a sucker for the Olympic games.

One day. One day, I will see the two of them skiing down the hill together with that same goofy grin. Just not today.

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