Mooooommmm! I want breakfast. This is the sound I woke up to this morning. I drag myself downstairs after sleeping for about two-three hours. My glasses are dangling on my nose, my pajama is dragging behind on the stairs and my hair resembles Einstein's. I finally arrive in the kitchen. I feed the little girl while my Phileas Fogg-dad is back from traveling around the world and is having his medicine. A few minutes later my dad and my daughter tell me that my daughter has had her first skiing lessons in the backyard! In the back yard?! I ask and look outside and all I can see is dry-brown grass with its last snow a week gone. Apparently my father, a passionate and experienced skiier and a man of his word, had decided to teach the little girl skiing like he had said he would upon his return. Knowing my father, I am sure the girl and her grandpa have had great fun.