Go to the Head of the Class

Alex has held fast to his decision to stay with Joey this morning, although it turned out to be more difficult than we expected to shift Alex into the younger class.  Dennis had to trot over to the lifts this morning, to negotiate permission with the ski school supervisors.  In the end, supervisor had no problem with our decision, although she promised us our son would be bored. Perhaps, but he'll also be happy.

The boys will be skiing in Murmli park,
and here is Murmli, the marmot who
greeted our car when we first entered Serfaus
and gave the kids all gummy bears and who
leads the kids in little dance breaks though-
out the day.  In the summer, I'm told, you'll
often see wild marmots if you hike in these
mountains.

We had a little extra time this morning after breakfast, so before we left the boys in the playroom, we stayed for a little while, the kids quickly cobbling together the most clever game of red-light, green-light that I ever did see.  Ella made a stoplight out of some building blocks, and the boys stopped and started on their cars: it was utterly adorable, and this time, thank goodness, the boys were all smiles when it was time to leave.

While Alex happily demoted himself to the 3- and 4-year-old class, Ella was eager to move up to something more challenging.  I'm well acquainted with that determined gleam she had in her eye as we set out for the lifts. We gave her the responsibility of carrying her own heavy equipment, and she didn't say a word: I have to admit, I got such a kick out of watching her lug her skis, with her little helmet and goggles perched on top of her head.  As she stated so aptly in February, when she's dressed for skiing, it's impossible for her not to look to look cool.

Ella, deep in determined
thought, on the ride up
the mountain.

Unfortunately it took us about an hour to get her sorted into a new class. When we approached the program coordinator, she said she'd been watching Ella and agreed that she needed to be in a different class, one that went onto the lifts and took her onto the pistes on the mountain. But then, while Ella was waiting for her paged instructor to arrive and was messing around, she lost her balance and fell, which made the instructor second-guess her decision. So she paged a different instructor, and Ella was sent to a group to learn how to stop more gracefully.

At the snow park, waiting for a new instructor.

After a half-hour, we stopped back in to check on Ella, but her instructor said Ella had already advanced beyond that class, and he'd sent her ahead. Ella reports that she'd moved through four different classes in the course of the morning. Ella said that one instructor wouldn't advance her, however, until she ate a mouthful of gummy bears.  A tough initiation.

Ella eventually ended up with Richard, who will be her instructor for the rest of the week and who, because he's from the Netherlands, speaks English even more fluently than German.

At one point we bumped into Ella's little class as they made their slow way, all in a wobbly line, heading down the mountain. Ella was incredibly pleased when she realized we were watching her, and she invited us to ride the lifts with them: "Are you going to stay with the team?" she asked. The team. Dennis and I loved that.

There goes the team, with Ella closest to the instructor.

As we watched the kids, Dennis commented that Ella is certainly better than he is on the skis. But I won't promote her beyond my own skill level. My pride prevents it. Just as my pride prevents me from telling you how, when I dismounted from the ski lift, I tumbled down and then brained myself on the chair as I tried to stand up.  We'll just skip right over that little story.

We skiied down the mountain to the hotel restaurant for lunch, and peeked in on the boys, who looked like they were having a lovely, peaceful time with their legos and building blocks, so we decided not to disturb them.

After our lunch, we went midway up the mountain, playing at the snow park and on some of the easier hills nearby.  The closest hill is very appealing for kids, with a bear-shaped tunnel that growls at you when you ski through the bear's mouth, followed by a few little ski jumps. All right: this I'll admit. I kind of liked it, too.

Quite pleased with her self, and rightly so.

Our little girl was doing well enough that, at the end of the day, we were able to ski all the way from the snow garden to the hotel (allowing us to skip the busy lifts and train). The gentle run might have taken us a half-hour in all, and Ella was incredibly proud that she'd managed it, without falling, even.

Back home, we found the boys and took everyone to tea time for some juice and cake.  Ella's supposed to be eating her lunch with the ski school, but as she gobbled down her sweets, we learned that she hasn't eaten a thing all day.  The first day they served some sort of fish fillet, which I'm not surprised she chose to skip, so today we stuffed her pockets with granola bars, just in case lunch didn't appeal.  But while Ella indeed chose to pass on lunch, she also skipped her granola bars.  The child lives on air.  And four o'clock cake.

I wouldn't be surprised if Ella loses a little weight this week, but Dennis, too, has been dropping pounds at an alarming rate.  He supposes it must be water, although he's been drinking quarts of it.  Overhearing Dennis talk about how many pounds he's lost (in spite of our 6-course dinners) Ella suggested a different theory.

"Maybe the scale is lying to you. If the scale told you that you were gaining weight, you might throw it away." Have I mentioned that she's read quite a few Garfield comic books this year?

Before we gorged ourselves at dinner tonight, we got to watch a 6:00 magic show, performed by Mimo the clown.  Unfortunately, the show was very poorly attended, with just three full families, and a handful of free-roaming and extremely ill-behaved children. But my kids had fun, and Ella spent a little time on stage, helping Mimo with his magic act.

A girl could get used to this.

Our dinner was as divine as always.  I think I could easily get used to these leisurely 90-minute dinners, with course after delicate course.  The kids tumbled off to the room once again, when Dennis and I were just half-way through our meal. By the time we returned to them, Joey was snoring loudly on the couch.

Perhaps he has the right idea. It's not even 10:00, but I've outlasted everyone, and I think I'm done for the night.

I'll leave you with a little late-night television, video footage of our escapades at our hotel.  (The giant stuffed bear that you'll see at breakfast is the mascot of our hotel, Der Bär.)