Four years old, skiied some nine hours this weekend. And no, that’s not counting breaks for food.

He’s skiing entirely on his own now, too—doing his own turns, controlling his speed himself, finding his own way down the hill. And never seems to want to stop. Today, I had to explain at last lift that yes, regrettably ski hills do close at night (earlier, tonight, in this case). And this was his second day on the hill this weekend. His sister—no slouch either, by any means—had had enough after a long Saturday at the hill. He wanted to come back.

Indeed, I kinda had to take him back. Insofar as assuring him I would had been the only way I’d got him to come home the night before.

Dunno where he gets that. But it’s nice. I can ride down with him now, mostly just stay close enough to keep an eye out for clumsy idiots who might run him over, otherwise just let him do his thing, just do my thing. Has to be all very low speed things, sure, but there’s lots I can work on that fits that bill—played with switching, spinning today, mostly: keeping the board spinning like a helicopter all the way down those slow greens. I can do that counter-clockwise pretty much indefinitely now—clockwise still needs work.

Kid’s a skiing machine.