There’s still time to get in some winter sports. Just ask our Jim Gaffigan: 

Because I’m a great father, I took my family skiing last weekend.  Yes, it was expensive.  No, I don’t own an oil company. I’d rather not think about how much it cost me. I just hope some of my children don’t want to go to college.

This time I took my five-year-old skiing for the first time because, well, I guess didn’t want to like him any more. Five-year-olds on dry land are not that pleasant to be around; maybe I wanted to see how he behaves on snow and ice wearing boots roughly the size of milk crates. Let’s just say the magic carpet lost some of its magic! Who knew standing was going to be that hard for him?

In my five-year-old’s defense, skiing is insane. Prior to even awkwardly waddling to the chairlift, a complete and total wardrobe makeover must occur. Of course, you’ll need skis, but you also need special boots for those skis, and for no apparent reason poles that you just hold onto.

You’ll need different pants — can’t wear any of the pants you own! If you are getting pants, you might as well get a new ski coat. You don’t want to be seen skiing in a non-skiing coat. How embarrassing!

You will also need a helmet and goggles, ’cause you are skiing, but you might as well look like you are auditioning for the remake of “Top Gun.”

Skiing was obviously a rich person’s idea. Somebody probably looked at a mountain and thought, “Ho, that mountain’s beautiful. I’d love to ski down it. But can someone build a contraption that could carry me up to the top? I don’t want to hike right now. Now I want to ski!

“I want to be one with Nature but I don’t want to feel Nature. I want every inch of my body protected from Nature. I want to be out there with Nature.  But halfway up the mountain, I’d love to go to a coffee shop.'”

Skiing is really the only time you will see rich people wait in line. And believe me: they’re not happy about it!  Ski resorts actually have to hire someone to encourage people to take their turn.

Skiing is kind of a metaphor for being wealthy in America. By some twist of fate, you get transported to the top — and then you comfortably glide down, surrounded by luxury, avoiding small problems along the way.

“Oh, someone fell. Well, not my problem! Heh heh heh!”