This was not Ellie’s first trip to Lake Tahoe.
Almost exactly two years ago when she was just 6 months old, we took her snowshoeing around the lake with my mom. We threw snowballs, we made snow angels. She was not impressed.
Since then, and especially since last Christmas, the fantasy of snow has been planted into her little head and everyday has been lived in anticipation of this trip. As expected, Ellie went crazy with joy when she saw the snow. What was unexpected though was her utter hatred for how cold it was. I can totally sympathize with her struggle: to be in love with the concept of snow but not thrilled with the freezing and harsh environs that are required to create snow. I myself much prefer the visual version of snow, as in, watching it fall and hearing the cold wind howl from within our cozy little mountaintop cabin, sipping on a hot mug of tea. Creatures of comforts, Ellie and I both are.
Ellie’s first ski experience was part circus and part immense physical labor on part of my husband. It was a bit hopeless in the beginning, when it almost felt like she couldn’t get past how uncomfortable her ski boots were and couldn’t stop whining. Once we finally got her gliding though, she had my husband enslaved to guiding her down the hill over and over and over again for as long as his back can stand it. Since I was the self-appointed picture-taker for the day, I had the simple task of looking on and laughing. Still, in the end we all agreed it was a fun day and a perfect first ski trip for Ellie and her little friend Bella.
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