The Bunny Hill

Dear Laney,

Dad took you outside yesterday for what was supposed to be another cross-country ski lesson. Instead, you watched him ski down one of the hills in our front yard and hollered CAN I DO DAT? And thus began your love of downhill skiing.

You wanted to go down the small hills in our front yard all by yourself over and over again. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this made your dad happier than a pig in poop, even though you were using him as a human ski lift.

You were really on a tear, until you went over a little embankment and fell backwards. You were flat on your back, looking up at the sky, and your dad and I were holding our breath to see what your reaction would be. Every parent knows the agonizing suspense of those 3 seconds it takes a toddler to inhale, as you're waiting to see if she's going to say, "Is okay," or start bawling. In this case, you screamed to the heavens, "I WANT MY PAR!!!"

I'm pretty sure that's the same thing Bode Miller yelled when he saw the gold medal slip out of his grasp at the '02 Olympics in Salt Lake. But he came back to win the gold in Vancouver, and you will, too.

Love,

Mom