The Almighty C. loves the mountains. He likes the snow and skiing and when he’s at the mountains he tends to be perfectly happy, so we try to take him whenever it’s possible.
Now, what you may ignore about my son is that the effects of happiness on him are just like the effects of crack on anybody else.
He’s wide awake at 15 to 6 or 6 at the latest and starts jumping on the bed, pulling faces, growling, hissing and making other strange noises. I usually put on a DVD for him to watch and go back to bed until a decent hour. Then the time comes for him to brush his teeth wash up and get dressed. As soon as I get him to take off his pyjamas he begins to run up and down the house as naked as a jaybird shouting “you catch me”!!! When I eventually succeed in catching him I’m already on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Then he drools whith his tooth paste and pretends he has rabies. 🙄
Putting on his ski attire takes forever and in the end we’re ready for going to meet his ski teacher at the slope, which is a few hundreds meters away from home.
He stops to hide along the street, he jumps into all and any muddle puddles he finds on his way, he tiptoes on the very few sheets of ice left, often slips, falls and complains for at least some 15 minutes, and then there he goes again giggling and speaking out loud and then bursting into laughter. By the time we get there and I eventually deliver him to his ski teacher I’ve already gone berserk and would call it a day 😑.
But to his honour I must say that – beside being unbearable – when he’s happy he is particularly witty and really comes out with some outstanding jokes every now and then. This morning while I was complaining about his misbehaviour he turned on me looked at me, his eyes huge behind his glasses, and very calmly told me: “mummy, this story between you and me is not working, we’re just too different…” 😳