"How old do you think those kids are?" Asked my father, admiring the cute little American tots standing in line at the ski lift. They were dressed in the puffy ski outfits of the latest fashionable shade of kindergarten pastel, making them look like they were wrapped in cotton candy. Snuggly fit around their middles was a rope with a handle affixed at the back so their instructor could lift them up onto the ski lift, or pick them up from the snow when they fell.

"I'm not sure," I said.

"I'd guess 5," said my father.