Mt. Baker welcomed Betty with a 158″ base and a foot of new snow. With the trauma of the rental shop aside, Lil’ Betty Rose screamed, “Go, go!” from the second her rear-entry boots clicked into her mini bindings. Her screams of, “Faster,” “Yippie,” and “Yee-haw” traveled down the mountain with the falling snow.
Daddy didn’t mind the back-breaking work of the tow rope, or the sessions of penut butter & honey sandwich eating at the trail’s top, mixed with a little snow-ball making. As we told her she was skiing in fine North West powder, she replied, “No, Betty’s skiing butt cream.” I suppose dual definitions don’t make sense to two year olds. Then again, Mt. Baker did look a little coated in wet baby powder.
After close to three hours on the slope, we headed for the lodge. Once warmed with milk, green peas and bunny crackers, she asked, “Betty ski with Mama now?” Clearly, the sport is in her blood.
In closing, it seems that the new-age skiing culture left quite an impression on her. While leaving the lodge, she exclaimed, “Betty shreads.”