On The Road: My daughter skis like a pro after 48 hours – but I'm in a crumpled heap

(Alamy)

"You OK, Mum?" my daughter asks as she glides past my crumpled mess halfway down the Plan des Eaux.

Les Arcs is considered to be one of France's best resorts, and a great place to learn to ski. My daughter, after just two days in ski school, is testament to this it would seem.

It's hard to explain my earlier feeling as I glance down from my elevated position on the chairlift and see my daughter's less-than-discreet, flower-emblazoned helmet shoot down the piste below me. After all, it's under two days since I first left her in the care of ski school to get to grips with putting on ski boots and figuring out how to stand with planks of fibreglass firmly attached to her feet. Just 48 hours later, I see her hurtling down a blue run, zigzagging through the hordes of skiers on the piste, close on the heel of her instructor.

With 10 kids forming a gigantic snake down the slope, little more than inches separating each tot, it looks like a disaster waiting to happen. It would surely only take one to fall to create a catastrophic domino effect ... but lack of fear and a low centre of gravity are an amazing combination.

The lowest nursery slopes into a resort are always the most worn, and often most unpleasant by the end of the day. The tiny excuse for a slope alongside the button lift at Les Arcs is no exception: narrow, icy and horrible. Having explained to my five-year-old that it might be better to take the lift back to the chalet rather than end the day on a low, she announces: "It does look quite icy, Mum. You take the lift and Dad and I will meet you at the bottom" ... and with this she launches herself over the edge of the slope and skis to the bottom like a pro.

There's a fine line between pride and humiliation when it comes to skiing with kids.

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