Dear Laney,
Uncle Nate and Grandma Sue spent Thanksgiving night with us, so they were on hand when your cross-country ski lessons continued Friday morning.
You seem to enjoy it, and you grasped the basic concept right away. You even seemed to figure out that you need to put your skis in a "V" in order to make it uphill. When you did that, your dad started tossing around words like, "prodigy." I tried to tell him it's not quite the same caliber of event as those 3 year-old piano savants who sit down and bang out Mozart concertos, but there's no talking to him sometimes.
As much fun as this day was, it held a little sadness, too, because it was the last time we were all going to see Uncle Nate before he and Aunt Brynn move to Florida next month.
When we told you it was time to get off the skis, you did this:
..which is a good representation of how we all feel to be losing Uncle Nate.
See you all at the 2026 Winter Olympics.
Love,
Mom
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