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The only thing my youngest son wanted for his birthday last week was a snowboard. He learned to ski when we lived in Utah, starting his first official lesson on his fourth birthday (you had to be four, and he lucked out that his birthday fell on the day the mountain opened). He saw his three big brothers and sister out there and he didn’t want to miss out on the fun.
His first season ended with him being comfortable on blue slopes. By his second season he was tackling black slopes, and some black diamonds that he and daddy were not allowed to tell me about, for the risk of a heart attack on my part. There’s just something wrong about seeing your tiny five year old dropping off a ledge and heading down a mountain side. I, to this day, still can’t watch the videos he took of those days.