Now, I'm not an avid skater myself. As a matter of fact, the last time I went ice skating, I think I was twelve and that's like three centuries ago. In my opinion, ice is for drinks not gliding over in a pair of shoes with blades on the bottom. But it's just one of those things that I'm determined to master before I die and unfortunately, my boys have to be dragged into it.
With the help of some good-sport friends, we hit the ice - literally. There were tears of frustration from my six-year old but the four-year old, who is normally a big whimp about these things, did well. Skating with his favorite mommy-friend, he was laughing, falling and acting like a clown on a first date.
I was proud of him watching from a distance. "Wow," I thought, "he's actually skating by himself."
The next second he was down on the ice. "Awww, poor baby."
Then he was back up. "Hooraaayyyy - whoops, horizontal again."
As for my six-year old, he started to have a better time when I gave him my complete attention. Holding him by his armpits, he practiced marching across the ice. Whenever he lost his balance or footing, I was there to yank him back up. Let me tell you, one-hundred squat thrusts, bicep curls and pull ups couldn't compare to the toll it took on my muscles but man did my beer taste good that evening!
The folks at City Ice Pavillion were fantastic and friendly. As soon as one of us sprawled out on the ice - which was every other second - they would swarm over to help us up. The rink was clean and roomy and the best part of all - inexpensive. Well, cheaper than a movie and at least I'm getting a work out.
Besides, neither of my guys are ever going to be like Scott Hamilton. Chazz Michael Michaels, maybe...
|First Grade Skaters|