This season, we have traded in our swimming lessons (which went swimmingly this fall, I am thankful to say) for ice skating lessons. G-Bear and E-Bear only have one native Minnesotan parent, and neither T nor I would describe ourselves as ice skaters (although he is quite proficient for a native Southerner, certainly better than me). Yet, after the fun of our December ice rink outings, we purchased two pairs of used children's skates at a local used sporting good store for $20 a piece and signed the kids up for 1/2 hour per week lessons. Despite their hereditary disadvantage, the Bears are taking to the ice like champs.
So far, the kids have learned how to fall down (on cue, no less, to the tune of "Ring Around the Rosie"), get back to standing by themselves, and march-step a few steps at a time. The kids seem to love their lessons, all ankle blisters have healed and hardened, and not a single tear has been shed. I'd say we're on a roll!
Buddy Bear is our trooper spectator. Snacks are key to keep him busy, as he would much rather be out on the ice with his siblings. We are all spellbound by the spectacle of the Zamboni cleaning the ice after the lesson time. E-Bear keeps asking me, "What is that thing called again?"
Today G-Bear announced: "Mom, do you know what I would like to be when I grow up? An ice skating teacher."
Sure thing, sweetie! For now, let's work on that step-step-glide.