Skating on thin ice

Yesterday morning I woke up and told Josh we should take Jack ice skating. Neither Josh nor I had been ice skating in the last 15 years, but it seemed like a perfectly good idea. Last day of February, the Olympics inspiring me, not too cold -- great idea.

We headed down to Millenium Park after what should have been naptime, but was just run-around-upstairs-and-go-pee-12-times time, with high hopes. Josh scoffed when I said Jack needed his snowpants, but I held firm that it was going to be too cold to do without.

After securing our $10 rental skates, we set about lacing them up. Jack was, how shall I put it, less than helpful. He kept trying to kick me and when there's a metal blade that close to your face while you struggle to insert an uncooperative child's foot into an unforgiving boot, well you get a little twitchy.

Once we finally had everyone ready to go, we had to cool our heels for 15 minutes while the Zamboni did its thing. But Jack thought it was kind of cool and we all just watched it go around and around and around while listening to the piped-in 80s music. Nothing says "winter fun" like sitting on the cold ground with Rick Springfield crooning telephone numbers in the background. And then I couldn't stop thinking about "Californication" and Rick Springfield. Eww.

On the ice finally, I have no idea why, but I thought we would just hold Jack's hands and glide along. After a couple of turns around the rink, I figured he would be good to go.



Let me be clear: I have been a mother for four years now and I should know better. You never, ever go into any event involving children with anything but the lowest of expectations. Oh but how I was wrong.

Jack clung to Josh at first, his feet scrabbling underneath him. I tried to calmly tell him to just stand still and get his balance. He tried, but then insisted he couldn't.



He then clung to the railing, kind of sidestepping his way in five-foot increments. He kept sitting down on the side, which caused me to point out to Josh just who made the snowpants mandatory. I know all, don't doubt the Mommy.

It took us an hour to go around one time. ONE. HOUR.

When we had the last 15 feet in sight, I told him he had to hold my hand and go to the end. Damn it, I paid $30 for this fun and we were going to finish strong. And he did. Yay Jack!



I must say, at the end of the day, I was proud of him. He wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but he tried and he kept getting back up and trying again. When it was over, we asked if he had fun and he said yes.

Clearly, my hopes of him throwing a triple axle on his first time out were slightly premature. But he did it, and that's what counts.