I went through the equipment, how it should feel when properly fitted, and our expectations for the first lesson.
Lydia interrupted me twice before I finished my first explanation. “So you just lean forward and let gravity do the rest, right?”
“No,” I said calmly. “You do not just let gravity do the rest. You need to steer to where you want to go and learn how to stop.”
“Good to know,” she said, undeterred.
We moved to the edge of the beginner slope, and I demonstrated basic stance and balance. Lydia attempted to copy it immediately and nearly toppled sideways, laughing the entire time.
“This is amazing,” she declared from the snow.
Lucy tried next and did not fall, which seemed to irritate her more than if she had.
“I don’t understand why this is harder than it looks,” she muttered.
Jane slid forward easily, knees bent naturally, arms relaxed. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “This feels… nice.”
Meri took her turn, shrugged, and managed to stay upright with minimal effort. “This is fine. Cold, but fine.”
Then it was Kitty’s turn.
She inhaled, exhaled, made it about three feet before tipping forward and landing on her knees with a soft oof.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately, before anyone could ask.
I walked over and offered a hand. “That was a good start.”
“It was?”
“Yes. You committed. You just committed too enthusiastically.”
She laughed despite herself and accepted my help, steadying herself quickly as if balance were something she needed to earn.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s try again.”
The second attempt went slightly better. The third went sideways.
Literally.
Lydia, who had decided she was ready to test her limits, launched herself forward with enthusiasm and very little control. Kitty was directly in her path.
“Kitty, move,” Lucy shouted.
Kitty turned just in time to see Lydia collide with her, sending both of them tumbling into the snow in a tangle of boards and limbs.
“I’m so sorry,” Lydia said cheerfully from somewhere beneath Kitty. “This is so fun.”
I boarded over quickly, helping untangle them while trying not to laugh. Kitty looked flustered but unharmed, her helmet crooked and snow clinging to her jacket.
“I didn’t see you,” Kitty said, mortified.
“That’s because I was moving very fast,” Lydia replied proudly.
“Let’s all slow down a bit,” I suggested.
Kitty nodded, cheeks flushed. “I’m really bad at this.”
“You’re not,” I said. “You’re learning.”
