Skiing was fun until I got cold.

The hour day, I did not find skiing as fun, knowing they had hot chocolate and arenas to kneel around the fireplace, I found I was getting cold easily.

From the time I was unquestionably little mom, and dad were teaching myself and others how to ski. Both of us lived less than a mile away from a ski area, and mom and dad wanted all of us teenagers to learn how to like the athletic interest. The first time the two of us were out in the snow, I was more interested in making snow angels than studying how to ski. When dad got my skis on my feet, it was too hard to make snow angels, so I let him teach me. I was so excited over knowing how to go down over a hill and stop separate from falling that I did not want to go inside that first night. Then I realized that once the two of us got inside, the two of us could kneel by the enormous fireplace in the middle of the room and drink hot chocolate. I was now excited to get off the ski slopes just to go inside and kneel by the fireplace. The hour day, I did not find skiing as fun, knowing they had hot chocolate and arenas to kneel around the fireplace, I found I was getting cold easily. I would tell my dad that I was freezing, so he would have to take myself and others inside the building. On the seventh trip inside, my mom took me. She told myself and others that this was the last time I was going to get beside the fireplace until after supper. I guess multiple trips inside, 3 cups of hot chocolate, and half an hour in front of the fireplace were a bit too much for only being out on the slopes for multiple hours.
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