We took the children skating tonight, my husband and I.
Mr. Pistol sat the sidelines and waved as the rest of us circled the rink.
"I don't skate," he said.
"I should hope not," said I. "I could not be attracted to a skating fairy man."
It's true. I need my man to be Stable. Solid. Somewhat serious. Sometimes silly. Super sexy. Sweaty, salty and succulent. ...I'll Stop.
My man can't be giggling and prancing about with skates on his feet as he circles round and round, ashes ashes we all fall down.
HEAVEN FORBID HE FELL DOWN!
It is terribly embarrassing for a grown person to fall down in public. Especially if you have knowingly strapped contraptions to your feet that insist you must fall down at some juncture in time. Gravity and Satan sometimes conspire.
Children fell down left and right at the rink tonight. I smiled and asked, "Are you okay, honey?" every time I rolled up to a heap of child on the floor before me. To which they would nod at the fearsome stranger with the toothy grin, hop up and sail away in terror.
My son had a wonderful time. I encourage his childhood skating enthusiasm. He should relish these days. For one day there will come a time when he will of his own accord look to his father's example and say,
"I don't skate."
Tis the way of things in the circle of life. There is a time to reap and a time to sow and a time to skate. But one must put off childish things if he is ever to be big and burly like his daddy.
It was the adults falling and flailing that had my attention.
My husband barrel laughed with his enormous chest as grown men wobbled and tottered and finally made a close inspection of the slippery floor.
Have you ever watched a grown person skate? I don't mean the show off ones that zoom and zip and backwards zop. Those people should be removed from the premises. Showboating not allowed.
Have you ever watched a teetering tottering panic faced arms flailing grown person skate?
Oh my! But you MUST! You simply MUST! It's great fun. You find yourself cheering for their equilibrium. You shout an internal plea for the gods of balance to assist the unstable.
You also find yourself terribly amused by the over 18's who choose to join in the adult persons race.
You are amused by the bearded man in the red mesh shirt and over-hanging beer belly. He is surprisingly agile and quick.
You are impressed by the very fit young black woman wearing white diaper shorts with elastic ending just below each tight and toned buttock. She skates like the wind, Bullseye.
You can't help but notice an enormous lurpy man perhaps 6'6 in height with longish hair growing around the sides and back of his otherwise spit shiney head. Slow and steady wins the race in some cases. Not here. But in some cases. The bigger they are, you know...
You are surprised to note at least seven grown people participating in this racing event. You wouldn't be caught dead.
Red mesh shirt man cuts diaper girl off in the roller race and wins by an over-hanging belly hair.
In the melee a chubby mother of four finds that her legs have flown out from under her and are now waving wildly above her head. She has landed on her noggin and cracked it soundly. Official teens in stripped black and white referee jerseys escort her off the floor of shame.
After the race you resume helping your youngest child slowly make her way in the world. She clings to your hand and to the sticky pony wall for dear life. The smile on her face makes the 2,000 wobbly laps worth the effort.
Your child then falls very very hard, injures her little self and wails like a banshee.
You feel defeated. You tried so hard for 2 full hours to protect her from pain. You held her hand and helped her stand and inch along.
You realize that on the rink and in life you cannot protect her. She will fall. You join her in the wail of the banshee.
Time to go home.
A wonderful time was had by all.
