So of course Little Boy is an Alpine-ski whiz, but how would he fare on long, skinny Nordic skis? This was a vexing curiosity for Mr. P and I, as we miss XC skiing dearly yet didn’t feel right sticking Little Boy in a pulk so we could indulge in our wintertime proclivities (nor do we, like, actually want to pull a pulk).
We headed to Weston Ski Track (not exactly the most idyllic XC ski location, but it’s close and boasts easy trails) and suited Little Boy up in a pair of rentals. Oh, such cute little boots! He fell four times in the first minute. We instructed him to bend his knees and lean forward, but his legs were locked and he kept sitting down on his butt. Gradually, he found his balance and rhythm, and managed to inch along.
But, still, lots of:
After 2 1/2 hours (minus an applesauce break), he became relatively proficient and even started to enjoy himself. Not with quite the exuberance of downhill skiing, but he did protest when we left. And he stopped falling so frequently. Not that he minded falling. Remembering my first perilous XC ski outings, I told Mr. P, “Better he falls when he’s young than when he’s old and already broken.”
