(Josh Kelley’s “Home To Me” is the song of this entry)

“Can we do this again sometime, daddy?”  Those were the words I wanted to hear from Littles at the end of our day together, and she said them loud and clear.  That was the goal and they were music to my ears.  I can’t really describe the way she said them, but they really hit me.  They were part humble request, part matter of fact, and part hope.   She sounded like a grown up and a kid at the same time.  It was like she was checking to make sure this wasn’t a one-time thing, but the word “sometimes” made it sound so casual.  “Can we do this again sometime, daddy?”  I’ll never forget how she said them.

Do you remember in the movie “Field of Dreams” when “Shoeless” Joe plays baseball with Ray on that new field for the first time?  After they’re done playing, Joe asks, “Hey, can I come back again?”  That’s how Littles sounded; like it was too good to be true.  Of course, Ray’s answer was, “Yeah, I built this for you.”  My answer to Littles was, “Of course we can, sweetie; and we will.  That’s why we got this snowboard for you.”

Yep, I took Littles  snowboarding for the first time.  She calls it “towboarding” because she can’t combing the “S” and “N” yet.  It’s adorable.

In her short life, Littles has seen me leave to go snowboarding many times.  She watches me collect my gear, bring it upstairs, and she’ll ask, “Are you going towboarding, daddy?  I’ll reply, “Yes, honey.  I am going snowboarding.”  Snowboarding is my release.  It relieves any stress I might have.  It’s just me and the mountain, me and the challenge, me and creation, me and God.  Everything else just fades away.  It keeps me human, which makes me a better dad.

“Are you going towboarding, daddy?”  Today, my answer to Littles question was different.  Dad and human would collide.  I got to say the words I’ve been dying to say!  Instead of saying, “Yes, honey.  I am going snowboarding,”  today, I said, “Yes, honey.  I am going snowboarding.  Would you like to come with me?”  Her eyes lit up.  She wasn’t expecting it.  “Yes!” She said with surprise in her voice.  “And I can use my new towboard!”  We both got our gear, loaded up the Pilot, and we were off!  She made sure to bring her Barbie and Princess, her toy dog, with us.  We were both smiling ear to ear as we drove down our street toward something I had been dreaming about for a while.

I must admit, I’ve been nervous about this day.  What if she doesn’t want to do it? What if she turns into a limp noodle on the hill?  And my worst fear, what if she just doesn’t like it?  Like I said, I’ve daydreamed about this day a lot.  Teaching her how to do something for which I’m so passionate.  I picture myself, years later, sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop and a cup of coffee.  It’s a Friday.  The sun hasn’t come up yet.  There’s a dim glow from a lamp; the only light on in the house.  I’m checking the snow report.  I go into Littles room and say, “Hey Pen.  Wake up.  There’s a foot of fresh.  Grab your stuff.  I’m keeping you home from school and we’re going to the hill.”  What if she doesn’t want that? What if she’s not interested?  What if she doesn’t share my passion?  That’s why I’m nervous about this day, even though it’s years away.

I usually do ride alone.  There are times when I go with someone else, but they’re few and far between.  My schedule allows me to go on some weekdays.  It’s a great perk of the day job, but that’s not a luxury many people have.  Littles could be my riding buddy.  This could be something we do together.  This could be our special “thing.”  This could be something which she fondly looks back on.  This could be some of our memories.  That’s my dream, but I know it might not be hers.  I’ve already decided that if she likes it, she likes it, and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t; but it will be her choice. I can’t force it and her interests might be different that mine.  And, that will be just fine.  I just want her to do things that make her happy.  I also realize I’m thinking way too far ahead. Let’s focus on today.  “Can we do this again sometime, daddy?”  Perfect.  I’ll take it.

So, today we went to Loveland Ski Area.  It’s a great little ski area that’s about an hour from our home. I love it at “The Love” because it’s everything I look for in a ski area.  It’s close to home, it has challenging terrain, the lines are short, it’s a great price, it has a great vibe, and it has great snow.  It’s a locals hill and I feel at home there.

The plan for today was to take it slow and make sure she had fun. I figured I’d pull Littles around on some flat areas, let her slide down a couple of gentle slopes under my watchful eye, and avoid any major crashes. That was not Littles plan. I strapped her into that board and she was ready to go!

I pulled her up the hill a little ways, turned her around, and let her slide back down into my waiting arms.  We did that a couple more times.  She wanted more.  She wanted to go up the magic carpet.  So, I put on my boots and board and up we went to the top of the bunny hill.  On our way down, I rode behind her, holding her arms, and she thought that was awesome.  “Faster, daddy!  Faster!”  At the bottom, she said, “Let’s do that again!”  When we got back toward the top of the magic carpet, I said, “Okay, we’re getting close, I’ll help you off the magic carpet.”  Her reply was, “You don’t need to hold me.  I can do it myself.”  She totally did.  After another run, she points and says, “I want to go on the chair!”

I wasn’t expecting her to want to go on the chair lift.  I didn’t think we’d tackle that on the first day.  I was obviously more nervous about it than she was.  I just didn’t know what to expect.  What if she got scared of the heights and tried to slide off?  I can’t have her go all limp noodle on the chair with me.  I don’t want to scare her on her first day.  Well, I was totally wrong.

Littles wasn’t scared at all; in fact, she was just the opposite.  “Look how high I am, daddy!  I’m bigger than all those people down there!”  She loved it.  The day wasn’t without it’s hitches.  Littles did take a spill or two.  Some tears were shed, but she’d be quick to brush herself off and get back up.  I was proud.  We took our final run and she decided she was tired.  “Carry me daddy!”  She laid down in the snow and that was it.  I knew our day was done and I knew I didn’t want to push my luck.  She had fun and that’s all I wanted.  I carried her back to the car.  We got changed, got cozy, and headed home.  As we were leaving the parking lot, that’s when she said it, “Can we do this again sometime, daddy?”  Success.  We will.