When your grown ass kid, now all adultish with a paycheck, 401k and bills of her own, asks if you to go on a ski weekend with her you better well say yes.
So when Kid2 invited me, I didn’t hesitate: you’re goddamn right I will because those teenage years were no picnic and now I get to hang with an awesome human.
She texted – nobody calls, geesh mom – that she booked us a “sketch” hotel near Hunter Mountain in upstate New York for three nights and will I pay.
So instead we planned an 5am wake up call to drive 2 hours to Hunter to ski all day, crash in a “sus” hotel for one night, which means alarmingly means “suspect,” ski the second day, then drive home.
Don’t worry mom, I got this.
Two entire days of skiing?
I’m not so sure I can handle it but if your grown-ass kid invites you, you go. So I did.