The Doodle has been bugging me for a while to take ice skating lessons. I waited as long as I could, and she still seemed interested, so I frantically signed us up this week. See, since I waited until the last session of ice skating, a week after the session started, our only option was a parent/tot class. I tried to guilt Dan into it, but he wouldn't budge. At one point in time I could skate reasonably well, but that was at least 13 years ago.
We show up to the class and Doodle is one of two kids in a helmet (Thank you, Kim!). Hey, the kid knocked out a front tooth twice, once after tripping on her own feet--I wasn't going to take any chances. I had rented skates; the other parents in the class, all of them, had their OWN. Great. Even the lone Dad on ice had on a well-loved pair of hockey skates.
Doodle was a natural, she didn't even use one of those red walker things that look like supports for aging gnomes. I was the first wipeout of the class, even before the kiddos. All in all, it was fun, even though my ankles were on fire.
She was a trooper, fell a few times, but never cried, just got back up. Much better than two of her classmates, who pretty much cried the whole time. Don't look over there Doodle. See, ice skating is FUN! Take that professional skater parents--your genes did not translate!
Doodle really started to get the hang of it. Me, not so much. At one point the instructor told her that she would be better off NOT holding on to my hand. That's how bad I was.
I'm determined not to make an a** out of my self next week, so watch out! I might be coming to an open skate near you! I might even borrow Doodle's helmet.
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1 comment:
I think we would all enjoy some video. To see the talented Doodle and you on ice
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