Our son woke us up at 5 a.m. this morning. We went skiing for the weekend. It was the second time this season, and the kids just love it. When we enrolled them in a weekend ski course, the receptionist eyed Jackson and asked how old he was.
"Three and-one-half," I remarked, emphasizing the one-half part. She said they had an age limit of four, and he couldn't attend. We told her he had already partaken in a ski class and if she didn't let him attend, well, you know.
She smirked as she filled out his enrollment form.
Jackson is a born skier. In fact, he is a born athlete, as you can tell by the photos. 
He insisted on sleeping with his ski boots, then woke us up before dawn this morning to "go skiing". Andreas actually got up (after insisting he lie back down until 6 a.m.) and took him outside to fool around in the snow on his skis. I couldn't believe the boy's tenacity. And his skill! When I watched them both in the course later today, I saw how Sophia had gained such confidence, too. The teacher said she was the best in the class, which Sophia proudly touted.
I predict Jackson will be an Olympic Gold Medalist in downhill skiing. Andreas and I will have the dark circles under our eyes to prove it!
