Today, without a doubt, was the best cross-country skiing I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy in the past 2 winters. The company, the conditions, the lighting, it was all perfect. The only thing that ever so slightly marred the afternoon was an exchange we observed between a couple as we headed up a hill following our loop through the back nine. We decided to climb one of the steeper hills rather than remain on the slightly groomed path that skirted around the golf course. As we duck walked up the hill, we watched a mom climbing up the hill with two sleds in tow, one of which had a cute passenger of about 3 years-old. As she steadily made her way up the hill, a man, comfortably ensconced at the top of the hill, yelled down to her. Words of encouragement, you might assume. Or, perhaps, an offer of assistance, right? No, it wasn’t either of those things he was conveying. What he said, repeatedly, was “You can’t do that” followed by “You know you can’t do that, don’t you?” I honestly don’t know if it is a function of my age or my personality, but I was immediately pissed. How dare he tell her what she was and was not capable of doing? Was she somehow internalizing his lack of confidence in her? How were those boys she was shepherding up the hill processing the man’s skepticism in her ability to help them to reach the top? I stared daggers at the guy as my friend and I not-so-quietly talked about what an ass he was. Screw him.