We started at the Warm Creek trailhead, greeted by deep snow, a good ski track, and gorgeous light filtering through towering spruce and fir trees. The high mountains were blanketed white and solemn against the clear blue sky; a perfect ski day. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that George was not impressed. Moaning, groaning, screaming, crying, and carrying on, the gentle, winding, glorious ski trail became the scene of a forced march, or even torture. A slim 15 minutes into the ski he turned to me, misery in his face, and wailed: “How many HOURS have we been skiing?” After encouraging, cajoling, and torturing him about 15 minutes longer I finally relented and agreed to turn around. But not before the requisite mom-lecture about positive attitudes and finding the best in things even if you don’t want to do them. Blah blah blah.
Magically, the way back was much better. I’d like to say he did it on his own thanks to my excellent parenting skills, but I confess that I threatened to revoke the after-ski milkshake at Buns N Beds in Cooke City (our tradition) if he didn’t practice some positive thinking. “This is so fun!” he exclaimed, sincerely, on the way back gliding and swooping down the gentle grade. Back at the truck, face beaming and eyes bright, standing atop the snowbank with snowy peaks towering behind him, he says “that was fun! Was that a positive attitude?” I thanked him for such a lovely and fun ski, and told him how proud I was that he learned an important magic trick. “What magic trick?” he asks. I told him that he can control the situation with his “mind magic”: if he thinks something is terrible, it will be terrible. If he thinks it’s fun, then it will be fun.
He looks at me for a long moment, thinking. “Okay,” he says, climbing off the snowbank and clamoring into the truck. “Can we go get milkshakes now?”