Arriving at a ski area on the Monday of Presidents' Week can feel alarmingly like going to the mall on the day after Thanksgiving. And yet every winter we choose to do it. Why? Because we take our shots when we get them. If the experience happens to feel a bit like jockeying for pole position at Filene's Basement, well, that's the price we pay for having jobs and families and the same vacation schedule as the rest of the country.

Crazy as it sounds, though, skiing during peak times poses an appealing challenge. If you can find a resort that feels relaxed and welcoming on the busiest day of the season, you have found a true friend. Families, meet Bromley. You're going to get along just fine.

From the time when beer baron Fred Pabst discovered Vermont's "Sun Mountain, families have been the soul of Bromley. In the 1930s, Pabst owned a string of small areas in the Midwest, Canada and New England. But he wanted one big sunny one. He found it at the Walker Farm, a hanging-valley spread located on the sunny south slope of 3,284-foot Bromley Mountain, six miles east of touristy Manchester, Vt.

In 1936, Pabst strung the first rope tow on Little Bromley (now the lower parking lot). Then came more tows, brought in from his other areas, followed by newfangled J-bars on Big Bromley in the '40s, a chairlift in the '50s and snowmaking in the '60s. Today Bromley offers nine lifts, 43 trails and 163 acres of skiing nearly equally split between green, blue and black terrain. It's big enough to entertain a family, small enough to be intimate and mellow enough to allow everyone to relax and enjoy a true vacation.

Skiing as a solo parent with two small boys has its challenges, the first one of the day being the parking lot schlep. Add the challenge of navigating an unfamiliar resort, and it's not surprising that I approached Bromley - well behind the masses on that busy Monday - with a measure of dread. But here lies the first clue of what's to come: Drive up to the front of the area, and as fast as ordering a Happy Meal, you can drop all your gear at the line of ski racks. Dip under Route 11 to the large dirt lot. A shuttle picks you up within minutes and deposits you back at the ski racks, steps away from the ticket booths. From there, you're one short flight of stairs away from the lodge, the kids' center and the lifts.

For a parent who gets truly, physically tired of multiple bases and endless pedestrian villages, here's the best part of the initial orientation: There's one mountain, one base area, one big lodge. It's simple, and it works.

The lodge, which greets skiers with its yawning fieldstone fireplace, is a throwback to more communal times. It's rustic and spacious, with hooks for wet gear, plenty of sturdy wooden chairs and tables, and one big moose with a huge rack. Picture windows on either side frame spectacular views south toward Stratton Mountain and north toward the slopes, where tykes slide on cafeteria trays under the watchful eyes of parents enjoying après beers at the Wild Boar.