just a small puddle

Several weeks ago, I wrote about how my fourteen-year-old son broke his arm snowboarding.  A few days later I described his incessant begging to be allowed to snowboard despite the cast on his arm.

Last weekend, I caved completely, and he spent the whole day on the slopes.  We woke up Sunday to piles of fresh powder, and I simply couldn’t take the pleas a minute longer.  He spent half of Saturday whispering, “YOLO, Mom.  YOLO.” (You only live once).

He returned Sunday with a giant grin on his face.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Today was the best day of my life,” he said.

“Really?” I laughed.

“Seriously, Mom.  Someday I will tell my grandchildren about the day I shredded the BC gnar pow with a broken arm.”  (BC=back country.  gnar pow=gnarley powder)

My son’s back country experience occurred eight days ago, but yesterday I let him snowboard again.  There are times in my experience as a mother when I simply can’t ignore my child’s unbridled enthusiasm, and the past couple weeks have been an obvious reminder of that.

Around noon my son met up with me, and asked if I would head over to the west lodge and sign a release form so he could enter a snowboard competition.

“What type of competition?” I asked.  “Is it a race?”

“No,” Cole replied.  “It’s not a race.  You have to snowboard down the hill and make it across this man-made puddle.  They are giving away Lib Tech Boards.”

My son covets the highly sought-after, highly expensive Lib Tech boards.  Still, I needed to know more about this competition.

“Do you have to do a trick or jump across the water?”

My son became increasingly elusive.  He employed all his powers of persuasion without actually describing the puddle he would be boarding across.

We headed over to the west lodge so I could take a look myself.

The man-made PUDDLE!!!

The man-made PUDDLE!!!

The puddle was the length of a swimming pool.  I spoke to the man putting the finishing touches on the water feature.  “Is it hard to get across?” I asked.

He shook his head.  “It’s pretty easy to get across,” he said.  “Of course some people dive in on purpose.”

“Why on earth would anyone dive in on purpose?”

“There is a prize for biggest splash,” he said.

At this point I glared at my son who refused to make eye contact, and I knew without a doubt he was planning to attempt biggest splash.

We bickered, but in the end, his twinkly eyes and winning smile got the best of me.  Cole, broken arm and all, went for biggest splash yesterday and was beaten by the only little girl in the competition who crashed completely and had to be saved by ski patrol.  Still, he loved every minute of it.

Cole, soaking wet after his biggest splash.  Afterwards, he spent several hours with a hair dryer attempting to dry out his cast.

Cole, soaking wet after his biggest splash. Afterwards, he spent several hours with a hair dryer attempting to dry out his cast.


One thought on “just a small puddle

  1. Alex Lytle says:

    You are a very good mom:) with a bit of bad judgement…..

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