Mr Snow It All

The lad must be wondering what sort of crazy mixed up topsy turvy greenhouse mad world he's living in. Cos no sooner does he get used to the heat of the tropics, wearing shorts and getting dunked in the Coral Sea with fish, than he's freezing his goolies off.

Yup. His second trip to Mt Hotham, a.k.a The Snow.

Unlike last year's trip to elevation when the lad was all into lying about and drinking milk and thats about it (as you do at 4 months old), this year it was all about exploring the lodge, playing with the other kiddies, chasing little brunette girls (his favourites), seeing how many nibblies you can steal off the adults snack tables and raiding unsuspecting lodge guests eskies.

(Is it better to throw out the half pack of illicitly gained dried apricots he's strewn over the floor, or just put them back into the unknown persons cooler and hope said apricots haven't stuck to an errant floor pube?)

And then there was the stairs.

See, Mikes been well trained by mum and grandpa to "go down backwards" when it comes to stairs. Which was a good thing, as the lodge has them aplenty. Which he went down. And up. And along the corridor to the other set. Which he went down, then up. Then along the corridor again. To the original stairs. Where he went... oh, you get the picture.

Which at least was a little better than the fact that he has also learned to climb chairs. And hence was suddenly found to be sitting up very nicely thank you very much at another family's dinner table. And being served dessert! (No, we didn't know them, but they seemed happy enough to accept a random banana and strawberry eating child.)

But it wasn't all lodge play and food theft.

Mike was initiated into the snow itself.

First there was a toboggan run. Or rather, drag. All rugged up like the Michelin man (thanks Dave and Jules!) he was popped onto the lodge toboggan and taken for a slide up to The General to get the morning paper and sour cream (lite).

All seemed well.
Till he fell asleep.
And stayed asleep.
And hence as evolution has yet to supply parents of sleeping ones with 3 arms, he was dragged back in the toboggan in a somewhat comatose state, generating "theres a man pulling a rather small corpse in a sled" looks from passing skiers.

"He's asleep..."

But it wasn't all corpse pulling. There were actual live solo runs down the slope at the end of the lodge, which Mike styled like a pro, even putting a hand down to steer and balance.

Rad dude!

He loved it so much that when we got him home he stood in his toboggan (horrifically for all concerned, in a snowboarder -like stance), and wanted more.

Not only were his first toboggan rides in order, but he also got a go on skis.

Or at least bunged in a backpack and taken on downhill's by dad, and cross country's by mum. Ok, it was only for a few hundred metres both times, and on slopes that weren't exactly double black certain death, but, hey, he was attached to terra firma via skis.

Well done.

There was also his first day of a genuine baby-madness child care centre (while mum and dad skied together - they felt so naughty...), which he left in somewhat of a daze and promptly fell asleep for the night ungodly early. We think they put them on drugs.

The following day it was back to the Big D to see Harry the Dragon. No, we don't know what a fire breathing (i.e., snow melting) beast has anything to do with skiing, but hell, it keeps the kiddies amused.

And occasionally wearing blue lizard wings and a tail.

All up a bloody great week. And it must be said that the boy traveled the 6 hours each way bolted in his car seat like a champion.

Well,.. almost.

See, having survived a rather hairy lotsa-snow and chains required descent of a very cold and icy mountain - car-sick-less - the cruise of the highway was surely a vomiting doddle. Till suddenly...

(mum) "Oh Oh... he's puked!"
(dad) "What? No..."

Sure enough he had. Right down his shirt, pants, car seat and into shoes.

But it wasn't so much the puke itself, but rather how he'd puked.

See, he'd been playing with a rattle/maraca all Carmen Miranda-like (sans fruit hat), making lots of noise as you do, but suddenly decided that simply wasn't enough.
So he tried to eat the maraca.
From the handle end.

Oh well, guess you gotta learn about the gag reflex somehow...


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