Soapbox

So I’ve got this kid….

And I took her skiing yesterday, along with her brother, two friends and the friends’ mother. We headed up to Mad River Mountain about 9 AM, hoping to beat the crowds. Much of the trip Kathleen spent in the back, holding forth with Susie about the personalities of the horses at the summer camp they had attended. She is a medium girl with large opinions, not unlike myself at her age.

We got the kids on the skis and pretty much turned them loose. None of the 4 has a lot of experience on the slopes; Steve has the most by virtue of having been in the ski club last winter. Katie has only had one lesson, but she seemed to take to the skis pretty naturally after that, and has great confidence in her own skills. She’s a pretty sensible kid though, and they seemed able to handle themselves on so small a "mountain" as Mad River, so we mothers waved them off and headed to the lodge to read and watch the slopes from near the fire.
They came in for lunch and we headed to the eating area downstairs. While they munched they filled us in on their various exploits. I gave Steve the nickname "Corvair" after his sister told me that he "goes too fast and straight."
"I never run into anyone, and I go just as fast as I want to." was his reply. Susie told us that she had tried some moguls and even "caught some air on one". Her mother Donna admonished her to be careful as they sorted out whose gloves and goggles were whose and hit the slopes again.

Around 2:30 I bundled up and went outside to hunt down the kids for a few pictures with our new digital camera. as I was surveying the nearest lift I heard a familiar voice call, "Mom…?!"
I turned and saw Katie standing near the lower entrance to the lodge, her arms crossed against her stomach, tears on her face. Uh-oh, I thought, she had a spill.
"Mom…I…I think I hit my head, and…I looked for you but couldn’t find you…and…I hit my head…and now I can’t remember where I put my skis!"

Katie does not make things up for attention, but she is, um, very impressed by her own traumas, and often doesn’t recover until I express suitable concern and respect for the situation. So I put my arm around her and while she cried I told her not to worry about her skis right now.
"You couldn’t find me because Donna and I are upstairs now, Katie. Come on up and we’ll have a look at your head."
"My head? What…were are my skis…what…"
I took her upstairs and removed her coat and wiped her tears.

So, what happened to your head?" I asked.
"I don’t know!" she sobbed bitterly as I gently felt the back of her head for lumps. "I… there was … my head, and now…now I don’t remember! I don’t remember anything!"
"Well, that’s to be expected, when someone hits their head." I said calmly, putting my hand over her right eye to let the pupil dialate and then removing it to watch the pupil contract. Both pupils seemed to react normally.
"I just don’t know what’s going on? How did I get here with you? What are you doing?" she wailed.
"Well, you found me outside and I brought you up here. You hit your head, and now I’m checking your head" I was watching her eyes track my moving finger now, which she was doing fine.
"I did? I was outside? My head hurts! Did I… did I hit my head?"
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