Day 291
My boys went for a snowboarding lesson today. It was their third time on the slopes (really a large hill) so I was feeling confident that they would have some fun and learn something along the way. Toward the end of the time I waited for them by the entrance to the ski school. There was another woman there waiting for her son, who was a few years younger than my boys. She seemed quite nervous and concerned about whether he would like it and the possibility of him getting hurt. I tried to be kind, listening to her worries and offering some reassurance that, in our experience, the instructors were fabulous. They seem to be skilled at focusing equally on fun, safety and learning. While we were talking I saw a ski mobile zip up the hill, and I wondered if someone was hurt. I hoped the woman didn't notice.
Soon the ski mobile came back down the hill with the injured person on the back who looked suspiciously like one of mine. As it came closer, sure enough, there was my younger son riding in back of the driver, looking as sad as a new snowboarder could look after being rescued. I quickly excused myself from my “kind act” to attend to him.
He was fine, a small cut on his head from falling, a bit bloody, but recovered enough for hot chocolate and a hot dog, and wanting to know when he can go snowboarding again.
I'm going out on a limb here to say that, in my year of living kindly, today's act was probably the least effective to date.
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