I took my son on a Cub Scout ski trip yesterday. It was his first time on skis. The good news is: he survived, as did innocent bystanders (or sitters). The bad news is: he's a total maniac on skis.

Because I go rarely enough myself to need the same lesson over and over again (but the body does remember) I had the privilege/stress of watching him as the patient instructors tried to teach him the wedge and directional turns. First he seemed frustrated. Then he seemed resigned. Then he seemed eager.

The little girls listened meekly, doing what they were told. I'm still fascinated by the mix of nurture and nature, conditioning and genetics that molds some girls into good listeners, and gives some boys an inflated sense of self-confidence.

My son couldn't wait to get up on the beginner's slope (along with a few million children of similar temperament). Narrowly avoiding being brained by the chairlift upon landing, he cheerfully put his skis back on-and headed straight down the hill.

I'm glad that he doesn't mind falling. I'm happy that he enjoys the rush of skis in flight, wind in his hair. I think I'll ski on another trail next time.

And I'm looking forward to watching "Upstairs, Downstairs" with my daughter tonight- even with all of the tension between England and Germany, Asquith's England was a heck of a lot safer than Bear Creek on a President's Day weekend.