So it has been about 4 months since our last posting. Since the arrival of George, our lives have been pretty boring, and we have been suffering from major lack of sleep, so I didn't think anything we were doing was interesting enough to blog about. (Nicole's edit: Our lives are definitely not boring, we love our little bundle of joy. We're just not as mobile.) I suppose our trip home over the holidays qualifies as interesting, if you are into reading about torture. Some solid advice for everyone out there: never take two jet-lagged kids on a two-week, 7-stop driving tour of the midwest. Actually, it was better than it sounds, we had a great time visiting family, but still about the most exhausting two-weeks of my life. It actually feels relaxing to be back at work in comparison.Anyway, so now that we are back in Switzerland, and ski season is in full swing again, it was time to introduce Mason to the joy of skiing. Basically everyone in Switzerland starts skiing at the age of 3, so we thought we would join in the tradition as well. It started on Saturday with a private lesson in the nearby ski-resort in Villars. This lesson can only be described as a total disaster. Mason's instructor was a total jerk, and within 5 minutes, Mason was crying inconsolably and I finally had to intervene to settle him down. For the rest of the lesson, I had to do the teaching to Mason, because if the instructor even looked at Mason, he broke down crying again. That was a nice waste of money. It wasn't completely for naught, however. At the end of the "lesson", Mason was skiing a bit on his own and was starting to get into it. That night, Mason commented that he wanted a "mommy teacher" for skiing, and not a "daddy teacher."
On Sunday, we formed a group with 3 of Mason's little girlfriends. This time it was much better. The instructor (despite being a "daddy teacher") was very nice and made the kids feel very comfortable right away. This time we stayed away from the lesson, at the request of the instructor, and only watched from a far distance. Mason seemed to really enjoy this lesson. The instructor would go down the bunny hill with one kid and then go back up to get the next one and come down. At the end of the lesson, Mason couldn't be patient any longer. As the instructor took one girl down, I saw Mason start waddling towards the incline, and as he reached the slope, he just took off and bombed the hill by himself and needed to be stopped by a passerby to avoid sailing out of the bunny area. That's my boy! 
After the lesson, Mason told me, "I didn't cry today! I went really fast down the big, big, BIG hill!" I think we have the makings of a ski bum.
