Ice Skating

There are things you do because someday it will be worth it to have done them. One such thing is ice skating with a four year old.

First there are snowpants, socks, more socks, helmet, mittens--oh, and ice skates. And woe is you if you get all that on without first asking said four year old if she has to pee.

Then there is clutching, standing still, refusing to move, only moving while clutching, chewing of mittens--oh, and falling.

Then there is resting. And having a snack. Then perhaps a little more clutching, standing still, and falling. Then more rest and snack.

Meanwhile, the eight year old, who proves that it was worth it, is practicing self-designed turns and stops in the middle of the rink. When S takes over the cajoling, being clutched, resting, and snacking, I break away to swoop giant ovals around the rink and then head to the middle to practice with her.

Did I mention how much I love skating? And while a glassy lake fringed with evergreens is all well and good, there’s nothing like the blare of pop music as you swoop around the logo-lined rink, graceful for once in your life.

Really I’m exaggerating for effect. She did skate, between the rests and snacks. She skated quite well, in fact, for a four year old. And at the end of the afternoon she declared, “I like ice skating. I love ice skating! Can we go ice skating a lot this winter?”

It was worth it.