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Ice skating: Lesson 1

Upon arrival at the Anaheim Ice Rink, I thought to myself “WTF did hunky hubby get me into?” The place was a zoo, hockey players, ice skaters of all ages, some Holiday program practice that had dozens of little girls in skate tutus and pig tails running about, and so many parents. We were directed to the small, hot crowded office to sign-up and while the very nice and patient woman was running my card for $125, Fussypants took the opportunity to jump on a chair and yell “I don’t want to skate, I don’t want to skate, I don’t want to skate” over and over and over.

I dipped into my quiet-the-tot mommy arsenal and found some smarties left over from Halloween. Fussypants got two (one for each hand) and a stern warning to sit down and behave. I’d like to think it was parental directness but I’m sure it was the candy bribe. Either way, he did.

Once we were all paid up, equipped with toddler skates, bundled in gloves and jacket, we entered the rink. More crowds. Who knew ice skating was such big business. There had to be over a dozen classes going on at once, while the next class lined up waiting their turn. After wandering around like an idiot due to the fact that the class times are suppose to line-up under the Disney Character picture on the big white board, only there was nobody else under the Pink Minnie Mouse, and asking several very unhelpful parents (who knew ice skating lessons were To Each His/Her own) we found where the Tot 1 class lined-up.

Fussypants was clearly the youngest of the six other children, all boys and one girl, but for 15 minutes he did everything the two very nice teachers asked him to do, and seemed to be enjoying himself.

But at the 1/2 way mark, the teachers asked all the kids to start pushing their chairs across the ice.
All six kids took off and march/skated with their little chair. Fussypnats stayed put. He sat back in his chair and I could see the teacher talking to him. Then she pushed him over to me, “Mom, he says he’s done so why don’t you chat with him for a minute and if he doesn’t want to continue, then we can try again next week”.

I looked at Fussypants and although he was smiling and not crying, he had a stubborn look in his eye. “I’m done now, I want to put on my blue shoes. I’m cold. I’m all done”.

Can’t argue with that. I got him off the ice and back into street legal footwear.

The next day, when hunky hubby was home, we asked him about it and he told us he didn’t push the chair because he didn’t want to fall (logical, right). Well, that prompted a hubby life-lesson titled When we fall, we just get back up.

Last night, while watching the Kings get spanked by the Blackhawks, Fussypants exclaimed, for the umpteenth time, that he wants to be a “hockey guy like those guys”. So I told him that he has to be able to skate to do that and that means he has to be able to push a chair across the ice in his next lesson, even if he falls.

He seemed ok with that, but for all I know he only heard “wah wah wah wahwah”.

I guess we will see how skate lesson 2 goes this Saturday.


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