The force of the expletive rolling off her tongue echoed like a shotgun across the towering birch trees, startling a flock of birds into the blue winter sky.
Blowing wads of snow out of her nostrils, she paused to take stock. Nothing really hurt, however, looking to her left and to her right, she could see the tips of her skis up near her ears.
The soft mound of snow she was sprawled on made a strangled sobbing sound…wait. What?
It all came rushing back in a flood:
Thing Two barrelling down the hill toward her at a breakneck speed… Her own panicked screams of “MAKE A PIE!!” echoed in her ringing skull.
The memory of Thing Two skiing right between her legs, brought her attention back to the weeping mound of snow beneath her.
Realizing her daughter was trapped beneath her, she lifted her body and tried to move her skis.
Spread eagle, like a wishbone being pulled, she realized her legs were practically nailed to the snow. Thing Two’s skis held the backs of her skis in place.
A bead of sweat rolled off the end of her nose and dropped into the snow.
In a rather non-motherly manner she instructed her young daughter to move her *ahem* skis.
Rolling onto her back she jabbed at the bindings of her skis with the end of her pole.
The pop of the bindings had her leaping to her feet.
Pulling her daughters skis facing across the hill, she kicked the skis into place and whisper-screamed for the 80000990765467th time, “I SAID – POINT. YOUR. SKIS. ACROSS. THE. HILL!!!!”
As the dark clouds of rage began to fade, she glanced around at the smiling families soaring joyfully down the slope, oblivious to the raging storm cloud flashing darkly over the centre of the hill.
“Let’s try again,” she muttered.
“But muuuuummmmyyyyy….I caaaannnn’t—“
“YES. You can. Now come on. There’s no crying in skiing.”
I Fed My Kids to a Rabid Kangaroo, and Here's Why... 