Beavertails

When Lukey started his skiing lessons, I told him that he was finally going to be able to try the on-mountain treat his sisters have been talking about years: Beavertails. I was talking it up really BIG, telling him it was only for skiers at the end of the day...a delicious reward for hard work.

I did not understand his lack of enthusiasm. Finally, after the umpteenth time I'd hyped it, I noticed the tears in his eyes. Were they tears of anticipation and joy? No.

"I don't want the beavertail...! Why would anyone want to eat the tail off a beaver...?!", he cried.

He was so upset about the thought of this massive beaver tail harvesting operation he was convinced was happening on Grouse that he could not take in my protests that Beavertails are PASTRIES. "Take a deep breath, buddy. They are made of dough. Not beavers. No beavers were harmed in the making of these treats!"

I was glad to see that Lukey wasn't too traumatized to enjoy a post-ski lesson Beavertail with his Daddy up on the mountain on Monday.

Oh, and in other news...Eric's ski jacket is huge.