Doctor Pow

I remember as a kid every once in a while my dad would take us out of school to go skiing. It only happened a few times a season, and it always came as a surprise. Even if we begged and pleaded for it, if the weather was stacking up and the snow was falling in the mountains, and we clawed at his feet for a day off school in exchange for a day at the hill, he wouldn't waver. Even if we threw down a week of chores on the bargaining table. No, he always liked to hit us when we weren't expecting it. We'd wake up, start putting our school clothes on and he'd walk in, a perplexed look on his face. "What are you putting those pants on for?" As we stood there, stunned, we'd begin to put two and two together. Elation would soon send us into a frenzy of dancing and jumping on our beds, scrambling for our long underwear. We were going skiing on a school day.

On Friday I surprised my 9-year-old with an afternoon lunch hour extraction. He thought he had a doctor's appointment. Little did he know, it was an appointment with Dr. Pow. The smiles and excitement lasted for hours. He kept asking the time, then equating it to his parallel school experience. "I'd be in science class right now," he'd say. "Little do they know I'm studying snow right now!" And we'd laugh and laugh.

Seemed a bunch of other dad's and mom's had the same idea. And whether or not it's the parent wanting to go or the kid, it really doesn't matter. Life only cruises by once. Kid's only want to ski with their parents for so long. And holding that key to freedom we have as ski parents is ever so fleeting. It felt good to pass on the gift. A special treat that comes back to us in smiling spades.