Skiing

We were standing in the upper part of our two-level sand pit. I perceived that a pair of plastic gutter lengths were in the way. I nested one inside the other and tossed them a little ways down the hill, out of the way. When they hit the ground, they popped apart, landing side-by-side pointing downhill.

I think it was Grace who said, "Those are skis."

We gathered around to look at them, 2-year-olds, wondering about what Grace had told us.

I waited until I was sure that no one else wanted to speak first, then asked, "How do they work?"

"You get in them and go down." Grace stepped into them, facing down hill. She then walked, carefully, a foot in each gutter, down the hill.

I didn't say, "Be careful."

Others wanted to try it too, spontaneously queuing up to take a turn on the skis. Yes, 2-year-olds queued up on their own without an adult coaching them into it. They carefully scooted down the hill in them, their feet moving in the gutters while the gutters sunk deeper into the sand, as cautious as any first time skiers on a bunny slope.

It was over in about 5 minutes, each of them taking two or three turns skiing down the hill. Some of the children chose to watch: maybe next time.

Lilyanna discovered the game just as the others were moving on, the gutters now containing a healthy sprinkling of sand. She stepped into them, then sank into a balanced squat, actually sliding down the hill in those sand-slippery gutters.

She did it two or three turns. On the fourth and fifth, she fell on purpose, laughing joyfully. No one loves a controlled fall more than Lilyanna.

Then we were done skiing.

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