(bonus points for the readers who know what my title is referencing AND can sing the song!)
I took K skating today. Mum convinced me that I should.
Allow me to add here – for the record – that I haven’t gone skating in at least thirteen years. And I haven’t missed it.
But for some reason, I took my kid skating. She strapped on her bob-skates and a helmet, and I put on my old figure skates (at least 15 years old, but probably older, and still looking brand new). Damn, those skates hurt my feet! I’ve seen some lovely looking “leisure skates” that look like running shoes attached to blades, but I can’t bring myself to spend money on something I’m so unlikely to ever use again.
The preparation for this was agonizingly long. Everybody had to get suited up in layers, starting with tights and ending with snowpants (rain pants in my case). We got strapped into the car. Drove to the community centre, parked, walked through the building, went outside, went back inside so that I could change from boots into skates (I hate lacing up skates. I can never get them tight enough and it takes forever.) Back outside, and finally, finally onto the ice.
K was enthusiastic and so excited that she was learning to skate. I tried teaching her how to position her feet in a “T” and then push off, but she had so much trouble copying me that I gave up and just skated backwards with her holding on. (Incidentally, I skate better backwards than I do forwards. Why?)
K let go of my hands and slowly shuffled along the ice by herself. She then announced, “I’m finished.” As if she were pushing away her dinner plate. As if we hadn’t spent over half an hour getting ourselves ready to skate. As if we’d skated for more than just six minutes. As if she was ever going to have the chance to do this again before her teen years.
Because, folks, she’s not. We were on the ice for all of six minutes, and my ankles were aching terribly. There was no joy of gliding along (even for the brief moments when I skated alone), just of feeling my feet wobbling and exhausting all of my leg muscles just to keep them straight. And K enjoyed it a bit, she was excited, but she gets excited over an old cardboard box.
All in all, skating was too much trouble for me to want to do it again soon. Fortunately, we got some excellent photographic evidence that I didn’t neglect to give my daughter a basic Canadian childhood experience.