Last night as a special birthday treat for Shaggy Hair Boy, I took him to the ski slopes at night. He wanted to snowboard with some friends so I decided to make the sacrifice and spend a few hours skiing. I managed to get in twelve runs on a gorgeous winter night AND feel like I was being a good parent by driving him there and back.
I'd never been skiing at night before. The scene was so beautiful that I felt like I was in some kind of 1930s movie: Big lights lit up the hills of snow and the nearest trees, pines and hardwoods all edged in white, while the woods beyond looked dark and mysterious. The chairlift pulled me right into the night sky, with a crescent moon moving into the sky just ahead of me.
The slopes were throbbing with adolescent energy: thirteen local schools bring their students on Friday nights. There were 20 buses in the parking lot! The lodge was filled with kids combing their hair, showing off, giggling and shouting, jostling each other. Outside, these kids travel in herds: I'd be skiing along and hear the sound of snowboards rattling against ice, see the shadows approaching, and whoosh - suddenly they would be all around me, a whole pack of laughing, screaming kids, fast but out of control. It's such great energy.
We came home to a warm house to have birthday cake with the gang who gather here on Friday nights. The great thing about Friday night sleepovers is that it gives me hours of peace and quiet on Saturday mornings. They will all sleep until noon, and I'll get lots of work done.