Yesterday we braved some chilly weather for Will's second and last day on the slopes. This time Owen came along and rode the Gondola up and down with Grammy and expressed his intense desire to ski like Will. Maybe next year, I told him.
Will learned to slow down, stop and turn and then he got pretty keen on flying down the bunny hill by the end of the day, a little too quickly for my nerves, but he learned to make himself fall when all else failed.
He even survived a slow-speed crash with an equally young and equally inexperienced little boy that left neither of them in tears. (This was while Grandpa was with him and Rob and I were off enjoying a run on our own. Will was eager to report the incident to me when we met up at the bottom of the hill: "Two kids crashed," he said, "and one of them was me." On the drive home, Will made Uncle Graham and Rob recount in detail every big skiing crash they'd ever endured.)