(no subject)
My in-laws were in town this weekend and I was on my best behavior. I only toyed with my mother in-law once. It went like this:
The Boy Wonder roots in the pocket of his ski jacket… “Hmph. I must have lost my Chapstick when I went off that jump,” he says conversationally.
Mom Wonder overhears. “Oh Christopher, you’re not still jumping! At your age?! (33)” She rounds on me. “You need to make him stop doing that!”
Did I miss something in the Good Wife’s Guide? Why on earth would I prohibit him from doing something that I aspire to do myself?
“Well, I spot his landings,” I say casually.
“You what?”
“I. spot. his. landings,” I clarify. She looks utterly confused. “You know, I ski ahead and make sure the landing looks soft and steep and there aren’t any exposed rocks or branches.” I hide my smirk. Without looking, I know The Boy Wonder is doing the same.
“That’s crazy! I hope you two have a good life insurance policy!”
Oh Brother.
“Oh Mom!” The Boy Wonder protests.
“Your knees aren’t young anymore, you know!”
I reach the point where I can’t help but speak my mind. “There are plenty of skiers out there who have no business jumping because they don’t have the skills to back it up,” I say, “and Chris isn’t one of them. He has plenty of skills to back it up. He’s talented. He should be jumping,” I finish my little diatribe.
“Well!” Mom Wonder says, in the flustered way that shows she's been overruled.
“Mom, you need to stop worrying around me,” The Boy Wonder soothes, draping an arm over her shoulder and pulling her in.
“My baby!” she wails.
Now that I can begin to understand…
The Boy's favorite jump is a good 12 ft off a perch into Eddie's High Nowhere at Alta (Utah). He lands it beautifully every time. Me? I've been known to land like a ton of bricks on anything higher than five...Ha!